The Grounded Theory Method in Practice
In the chapters that follow in Parts 2 and 3 the main aspects of the grounded theory method (GTM) are discussed in detail, making extensive use of the work submitted by several of my students for their PhDs. The application of GTM across their theses varies in many respects, exemplifying the different ways in which the method can be used to arrive at conceptual models and theories that have fit, grab, and utility in the areas from which they have been derived, and possibly even beyond these confines. These chapters necessitate reference to the historical background leading up to the appearance of the GTM, and the ways in which the method has developed since the 1960s. This involves taking issue with some of the conventional wisdom associated with GTM, but doing so with a balance between Rapoport’s rules referred to in the Introduction to this book, and J. K. Galbraith’s use of the term with its mildly derogatory overtones.
Because familiarity is such an important test of acceptability, the accept- able ideas have great stability. They are highly predictable. It will be con- venient to have a name for the ideas which are esteemed at any time for their acceptability, and it should be a term that emphasized this predictability. I shall refer to those ideas henceforth as the conventional wisdom. (Galbraith, 1958, emphasis added)1
Glaser and Strauss can themselves be seen as archetypal challengers of “the conventional wisdom” relating to research in the 1960s. But in the ensu- ing years some aspects of GTM have achieved the questionable status of
“acceptability” and “predictability,” and are now appropriate targets for simi- lar challenges, but with the understanding that the result of such endeavors contributes to our overall understanding of research practices in general and GTM in particular.
It should be noted that several of my PhD students did not set out to use GTM from the start of their doctoral work but came across it later and opted to implement it for various reasons; whereas others used the method in
conjunction with other methods. These differing rationales and strategies will become apparent as this section unfolds and will be dealt with more fully in Part Three, but for now it should be noted that, taken together, the chapters that comprise Part 2 aim to offer a firm and coherent justification for arguing that one of the strengths of GTM is its flexibility, which is demonstrated in practice by the different ways in which it has been taken up and served the purpose for effective conceptualization and generation of theories.
As already intimated in Chapter 2, it is futile to insist on strict adher- ence to one method or strategy, and particularly so in the case of GTM, which places such importance on flexibility and contingency— admittedly usu- ally with regard to grounded theories themselves rather than the method.
But as Charmaz has pointed out Glaser and Strauss from the outset invited their readers to use grounded theory strategies flexibly, and in their own way (Charmaz, 2006, p. 9). Strauss and Corbin clearly expressed this in their chap- ter in the first edition of The Handbook of Qualitative Research in 1994. This is not to open the way for a GTM free- for- all, but it is critical for researchers to understand that methodological statements need to be presented, treated, and understood as heuristics and not algorithms— that is, as guidelines rather than strictures and prescriptions.
In any case the possible outcomes of a free- for- all should not be regarded as any more problematic than those that can result from slavish adherence to one view of a method. In fact, it is important to recognize and counteract the inevitability of such developments, and the Strauss and Corbin chapter in 1994 clearly implies that Strauss himself was well aware of the ways in which the lessons of the initial trilogy and subsequent GTM texts were being misunder- stood and misapplied. In some cases such misunderstandings were a result of imbalances in the texts themselves, but they were also a result of unreflective or mechanistic interpretations of the subtleties of GTM itself.
Authors and researchers offering extended methodological accounts—
including this one— need to understand that such ventures are inherently risky, because they will inevitably lead to misunderstandings, revisions, enhancements, and applications across a range that extends from the unthink- ingly slavish to the ad hoc and superficial. As a consequence, methodological accounts may well elicit responses from the originators and others that might be presented as further clarification, but that can also function as boundary claims regarding the extent to which the various interpretations and imple- mentations are or are not acceptable.Thus, on the one hand some authors argue about the extent to which interpretations of GTM fall within or beyond the confines of the method, whereas on the other hand, others will be keen to demonstrate that their contributions are valid articulations of the original, or they will offer clarification, enhancements, or revisions. I would argue that, GTM like any method, needs to be understood as a developing social practice which, like a shark, has to keep moving forward if it is to sustain its claim to
having fit, grab, and utility as a guide for researchers keen to generate innova- tive and insightful conceptualizations in the form of grounded theories.2
In the chapters that follow I present a brief historical account of the method and its founders (Chapter 3), before I move on to consider the key features and characteristics of the method as a whole (Chapter 4). Part Three offers an exploration of GTM in more detail, including examples drawn from the literature and also from the work of PhD students, illustrating the ways in which GTM- oriented research is undertaken in practice.
Different authors have taken differing stances in presenting the details of GTM. In the first edition of her book, Kathy Charmaz had chapters on gather- ing rich data, coding, and memo- writing, as well as ones on writing and reflect- ing. In the second edition those chapters were supplemented with chapters on interviewing, Symbolic Interactionism and GTM, and later aspects of coding (Charmaz, 2006 and 2014). The second edition of Basics of Qualitative Research (Strauss and Corbin, 1998) offered a section on “Coding Procedures,” includ- ing chapters on “Open coding,” “Axial Coding,” and “Coding for Process.” The third edition (Corbin and Strauss, 2008) uses a completely different structure of 15 chapters, none of which incorporates the term “coding” in its title. There are now numerous books on GTM, some of which appear in the References in this text, and in adding to this number with this book I have deliberately opted for a strategy that complements, rather than mimics or reiterates, Charmaz’s account. For instance, rather than discussing the ways in which GTM inter- viewing might be planned and undertaken, I refer readers to the excellent chapter in the new edition of her book (Charmaz 2014). The opening of Part Three in this book explains my strategy in more detail, specifically, the ways in which it is organized around the central theme of doing grounded theorizing, a research process that revolves around the core processes of abstracting, con- ceptualizing, patterning and configuring, and abductive reasoning.
Notes
1. In many senses this anticipates some aspects of Kuhn’s concept of a paradigm.
2. Quote from Annie Hall (Woody Allen) “A relationship, I think, is like a shark. You know? It has to constantly move forward or it dies. And I think what we’ve got on our hands is a dead shark.” Similarly, with regard to GTM, we need to avoid having a “dead method”
on our hands.
63
3
1967 And All That
“GTM is an abductive, Pragmatist method, I just didn’t tell Barney!”
Glaser and Strauss began work together in the 1960s, leading in 1967 to the publication of The Discovery of Grounded Theory; hence the chapter title 1967 and All That.”1 Strauss’s intellectual development derived from his experi- ence in the first part of the twentieth century as part of the Chicago School of Sociology, an orientation that is characterized by attention to the meanings and motivations of social actors.2 Key figures associated with this tradition include G. H. Mead, Robert Park, and Herbert Blumer. Blumer is known for the concept of Symbolic Interaction or Symbolic Interactionism [SI], a term he coined in the 1930s. In his later work he characterized SI as resting on
three simple premises: 1) that human beings act towards things on the basis of the meanings that they have for them— including physical objects, activities and encounters with other human beings, institutions and other collectivities, and concepts and ideals; 2) that the meaning of such things is derived from, or arises out of, the social interaction that one has with one’s fellows; 3) these meanings are handled in, and modified through, an interpretative process used by the person dealing with [these]
encounters. (Blumer, SI, 1969, p. 2)
Glaser, on the other hand, had undertaken his postgraduate work at Columbia University, in New York, working under the nominal guidance of Paul Lazarsfeld and Robert K. Merton. Lazarsfeld was a highly influential figure in American sociology at the time, making key contributions to teaching and implementing empirical methods in social research. In his native Austria he had led the team behind the detailed study of the town of Marienthal, pub- lished as a “sociography of an unemployed community” in the 1930s (Jahoda et al, 1932). This large- scale and participative study of the effects of unemploy- ment on a small Austrian community became a classic of sociological research, and it led to Lazarsfeld’s being invited to the United States on a fellowship in the mid- 1930s. With the rise of the Third Reich, he never returned to Austria,
and at Columbia he established the Bureau of Applied Social Research, which was described as setting the agenda for US social science research in the 1950s and 1960s.
The Marienthal study was derived from extensive data gathered by a large team of researchers over more than 100 working days. The documentation was said to have weighed around 30 kg. This was analyzed, initially using coding frames that had been prepared prior to the data gathering itself. But one of the key features of the publications developed from this study was their literary and narrative tone. This derived from the extensive time spent by the research team in Marienthal itself, where they had acted not merely as disinterested researchers but as active— but temporary— members of the community.3
Strauss, born in 1916, was the older of the two by 14 years, and also the more established as an academic sociologist and researcher. Prior to the appearance of the founding trilogy of GTM (Awareness, Discovery, and Time), he had already published a key Symbolic Interactionist oriented text, Mirrors and Masks, in 1959. This book appeared in the same year as his colleague Erving Goffman’s Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. In the United States and the United Kingdom Mirrors and Masks was largely eclipsed by Goffman’s work, although in the German- speaking world it was very much the core text that articulated what has been called the dramaturgical and symbolic interac- tionist trend in sociological analysis.
In 1960 Strauss moved to the School of Nursing at the University of California, San Francisco (UCSF), establishing the Department of Social and Behavioral Sciences. This also marked the start of his collaboration with Glaser. Each had recently suffered a close family bereavement; Strauss’s mother and Glaser’s father— hence the dedicatees referred to in Awareness.4 This adds poignancy to their work on dying. It also exemplifies a characteristic of many GTM projects, namely the way in which GTM researchers develop their stud- ies based on their own personal experiences or backgrounds. This might seem to be a problem for a research project, because many of the authoritative texts suggest that research should be dispassionate. But in practice research is car- ried out for a number of reasons, which may include the necessity to earn a living and gain funding, to be linked to one’s employment, or to develop from a deeply felt commitment, or all three. Research can be dispassionate as long as it is done in a robust and systematic manner, and it may actually be carried out with clearer insight if driven by acknowledged motivations and concerns.
In any case, whatever the impact of such motivations, a great deal of pub- lished GTM research has been marked by personal involvement, usually to good effect. This originates with Awareness and Time and continues into the present, as exemplified by many of the chapters in The Handbook of Grounded Theory (Bryant and Charmaz, 2007a).
In their early, pioneering work, Strauss and Glaser were joined by Jeanne Quint, a professionally qualified nurse. Her role in the early studies has been
largely neglected, and following publication of Awareness and Discovery she appears to have had little or no further involvement with Glaser and Strauss’s research activities. Her “almost daily invaluable support” over the 6- year period of the research is mentioned in the acknowledgments to Awareness.
Glaser and Strauss refer to four publications emanating from their research project, including Awareness, together with “a forthcoming publication on the trajectory of the dying patient” (Time), and also Quint’s The Nurse and the Dying Patient (1967).5 The actual role played by Quint in these early studies is unclear, although Phyllis Stern (2012), in her obituary of Jeanne Quint Benoliel, argues that “[W] hen Glaser and Strauss treated her data as their own, she beat them to the punch by publishing first” (emphasis added).
Whatever the case may be, in 1970 she joined the staff of the University of Washington School of Nursing, where she played a key part in the ensuing decades as a pioneer in care of the terminally ill and in the development of nursing education, including postgraduate and doctoral studies, as the fol- lowing extract indicates.
Jeanne was the first registered nurse to be president of the International Work Group on Death, Dying and Bereavement. She helped to create and organize a number of international thanatology organizations and is rec- ognized as one of the founders in the field of palliative and hospice care.
To say that Jeanne Quint Benoliel is a “living legend” is an understate- ment. She has transformed the field of care for dying people. She was the first to bring the family into care for the dying. Her research, joined with Ruth McCorkel’s, continued to focus on system distress, enforced social dependency, and health outcomes for patients and the families. Taken together, Jean’s contributions have helped shape the field of palliative care and hospice care. She has made legendary contributions to nursing that bring honor to the discipline. (WSNA, 2004)
In Discovery Glaser and Strauss located their respective intellectual forma- tions within two distinct schools of social research; Glaser in the Columbia tradition of Lazarsfeld and Merton, and Strauss in the Chicago tradition of Blumer and Mead. They made mention of the “embarrassingly noticeable gap between highly abstract theory and the multitude of miniscule substan- tive studies so characteristic of current sociology” (p. 97). They noted that Blumer had already pointed this out in the 1940s, although the “gap is as wide today as it was in 1941 … and in 1949, when Merton optimistically suggested a solution” (p. vii). The cryptic reference to Merton is expanded in a footnote on page 2 of Discovery, where he is credited with discussing the “theoretic functions of research” and referring to the topic of serendipity.
Glaser and Strauss, however, contended that ultimately Merton is concerned with “grounded modifying of theory, not grounded generating of theory”
(emphasis added).
Merton occupies an anomalous position in the sociological landscape sketched by Glaser and Strauss in Discovery. He is credited with recogniz- ing the gap first articulated by Blumer, and even offering a solution to bridge it. Moreover his concept of “theories of the middle- range” is referred to in their discussion of the two possible products of “comparative analysis”; both substantive and formal grounded theories … can be considered as “middle- range.” That is, they fall between the “minor working hypotheses of everyday life” and the “all- inclusive grand theories” (pp. 32– 33).
On the other hand his work on anomie was referred to as a “classic exam- ple of logically deduced theory” (p. 4), and a footnote on page 8 pointed out that in his discussion of codification he suggests that “the irrelevant richness of connotation” should be omitted; whereas Glaser and Strauss demanded that such richness of information be fully incorporated; indeed, it is central to their method.
To reiterate the point made previously, Discovery was written at least in part as a manifesto for the new method. As such there is a good deal of space devoted to characterizing the different forms of social research extant at the time, and the distinctiveness of the new method in contrast to these orthodox- ies. To begin with, Glaser and Strauss point to writers such as C. Wright Mills, who was singled out as exhibiting “little theoretical control” in his work (p. 5).
This term is ambiguous, but some clarification is offered in the ensuing clause—
“though he claimed that data disciplined his theory.” For Glaser and Strauss, theoretical control came from disciplined attention to the data. Consequently Mills’s uncontrolled work was contrasted with the grounded approach exempli- fied in the classic Chicago School study of male medical students, Boys in White (Becker et al., 1961— Strauss being one of the co- authors), which is “derived from the data and then illustrated by characteristic examples of data” (p. 5).
Glaser and Strauss recognized the existence of grand theories in the social sciences, such as those of Marx, Weber, Durkheim, Simmel, Cooley, Veblen, Mead, and Park, all of whom are mentioned (p. 10). They did not disparage this work, but on the contrary singled out Weber’s work on bureaucracy and Durkheim’s on suicide as good examples of theoretical studies founded on close analysis of the data. They did, however, take issue with the way in which this body of work had come to be regarded, with these great men (and they were all men) and their ideas seen as having “charismatic finality”— precluding any new insights other than modifying or reformulating their work. Talcott Parsons and Robert K. Merton were at the time the only living sociologists who had “seen through this charismatic view of the great men sufficiently to generate grand theories on their own” (p. 10), but this has led to their work being added to the pantheon rather than being seen as examples of the ways in which new theories could be generated by contemporary social researchers.
The result was that US social science research of that era centered on “verifica- tion” of these theories, many of which had little or no grounding in the data