- •What is scientific method?
- •Defining the Problem
- •Reviewing the Literature
- •Formulating the Hypothesis
- •Figure 2-1 Causal Logic
- •Independent variable х
- •Collecting and Analyzing Data
- •Developing the Conclusion
- •Ideas for further research
- •M edia image
- •In Summary: Scientific Method
- •Participant Observation
- •Surveys
- •In preparing to conduct a survey, sociologists must exercise great care in the wording of questions (see Table 2-1). An effective survey question
- •Unobtrusive Measures
- •It is important to realize that research designs need not be viewed as mutually exclusive. As was
- •Ethics of research
- •Case Studies of Ethical Controversies
- •Current research
- •In order to study the lifestyle of homosexual males in tearooms, Humphreys acted as a participant observer by serving as a "lookout," warning patrons when police or other strangers ap-
- •Neutrality and Politics in Research
- •If possible, read your paper aloud. Doing so may be helpful in locating sections or phrases that do not make sense.
In order to study the lifestyle of homosexual males in tearooms, Humphreys acted as a participant observer by serving as a "lookout," warning patrons when police or other strangers ap-
proached. While he was primarily interested in the behavior of these men, Humphreys also wanted to learn more about who they were and why they took such risks. Yet how could he obtain such information? Secrecy and silence were the norms of this sexual environment. Most of the men under study were unaware of Humphreys's identity and would not have consented to standard sociological interviews.
As a result, Humphreys decided on a research technique that some social scientists later saw as a violation of professional ethics. He recorded the license plate numbers of tearoom patrons, waited a year, changed his appearance, and then interviewed them in their homes. The interviews were
PART ONE ♦ THE SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE
BOX ♦ 2-4
PRESERVING CONFIDENTIALITY—ONE SOCIOLOGIST'S VIEW
Many readers of Doomsday Cult suspected that the DPs were, in fact, Reverend Sun Myung Moon's Unification church (see Chapter 13). However, after years of observation research, Lofland refused to break his initial promise of anonymity and reveal the real names of the DPs and their leader. At the end of the book, Lofland (1977:345-346) explains why he maintained this position:
. . . First, I continue to have a personal and private obligation to the members with whom I spent many months. I am determined that they will not suffer infamy on my account, despite the fact that some have achieved infamy by their own actions. Second, I am a sociologist rather than an investigative journalist . . . , muckraker or other moralist. . . .
Sociologists must agree to pro-
John Lofland.
tect the people they study in exchange for permission to be privy to the secrets of social organization and social life. I made such an agreement with the group reported in this book, and although the fame of the group now makes it difficult to continue this protection, I must try. Anything less endangers the future of sociology itself, threatening to bring it into even more disrepute by giving credence to the charge that sociologists are merely one more breed of muckraker, whistle-blower, undercover agent, police spy, or worse. . . .
The position I offer above is not, of course, absolute. . . . There are a few circumstances in which I would not grant or continue the protections of anonymity. A prime one is if I believed that the DPs seriously threatened the pluralism of American society, that they had any serious chance of taking over
the United States government, I would try to stop them, and use personally identified information on members to do so. That is, a pluralistic and more or less free society is one indispensable condition of practicing sociology itself. I would not stand by and allow them to destroy my discipline (which they would do if they could) and the society that makes that discipline possible. In my judgment, they do not now nor are they ever likely to pose such a threat.
There is an interesting postscript to this story. Despite Lofland's firm efforts to protect the anonymity of the DPs and their leader, it was commonly assumed—and even flatly asserted in print by other scholars— that the DPs were indeed Moon's Unification church. By the early 1980s, Lofland (1985:120-121) finally concluded that the "'secret' had become absurdly obvious, so obvious that continuing the 'cover' seemed pointless." Consequently, in 1983, he asked the president of the American branch of the Unification church to release him from his 1962 agreement with church officials. This request was granted, but it was agreed that only the organization and its founder would be named by Lofland. He continues to protect the identities of the cult members whom he met during his years of observation research.
conducted as part of a larger survey, but they did provide information that Humphreys felt was necessary for his work.
Although the researcher recognized each of the men interviewed from his observations in the testrooms, there was no indication that they recognized him. Humphreys learned that most of his subjects were in their middle thirties and mar-
ried. They had an average of two children and tended to have at least some years of college education. Family members appeared to be unaware of the men's visits to park restrooms for casual homosexual encounters.
Even before the public outcry over his research began, Humphreys (1970b;167-173; 1975:175-232) was aware of the ethical questions that his
CHAPTER TWO ♦ METHODS OF SOCIOLOGICAL RESEARCH
study would raise. He exerted great care in maintaining the confidentiality of his subjects. Their real identities were recorded only on a master list kept in a sale-deposit box. The list was destroyed by Humphreys after the research was conducted.
For social scientists, the ethical problem in this research was not Humphreys's choice of subject matter, but rather the deception involved. Patrons of the tearoom were not aware of Humphreys's purposes and were further misled about the real reasons for the household interviews. However, in the researcher's judgment, the value of his study justified the questionable means involved. Humphreys believed that, without the follow-up interviews, we would know little about the kinds of men who engage in tearoom sex and would be left with false stereotypes.
In addition, Humphreys believed that by describing such sexual interactions accurately, he would be able to dispel the myth that child molestation is a frequent practice in restrooms. One unintended consequence of the research was that it has been increasingly cited by attorneys seeking acquittal for clients arrested in public bathrooms. These lawyers have used the study to establish that such behavior is not unusual and typically involves consenting adults.
Do these gains in our knowledge and understanding offset Humphreys's actions in encroaching on people's private lives and deceiving them during interviews? Essentially, in reflecting on the study, we are left with a conflict between the right to know and the right to privacy. There is no easy resolution of this clash of principles. Yet we can certainly ask that sociologists be fully-aware of the ethical implications of any such research techniques (Horowitz and Rainwater, 1970; Von Hoffman, 1970).
Tragic Accident or Suicide? Л similar ethical issue—with the right to know posed against the right to privacy—became apparent in research on automobile accidents in which fatalities occur. Sociologist William Zellner (1978) wished to learn if fatal car crashes are sometimes suicides that have been disguised as accidents in order to protect family and friends (and perhaps to collect otherwise unredeemable insurance premiums). These acts of "autocide" are by nature covert, even more so than the sexual behavior of Humphreys's subjects.
Are some people who die in single-occupant automobile crashes actually suicides? One sociological study of possible "autocides," which raised interesting ethical questions concerning the right to know and the right to privacy, concluded that at least 12 percent of such accident victims have in fact committed suicide.
In his efforts to assess the possible frequency of such suicides, Zellner sought to interview the friends, coworkers, and family members of the deceased. He hoped to obiain information that would allow him lo ascertain whether the deaths were accidental or purposeful. Persons approached for interviews were told that Zellner's goal was to contribute to a reduction of future accidents. For this reason (as they were falsely informed), Zellner wished to learn about the emotional characteristics of accident victims. No mention was made of the interviewer's suspicions of autocide, out of fear that potential respondents would refuse to meet with him.
PART ONE ♦ THE SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE
Zellner eventually concluded that at least 12 percent of all fatal, single-occupant crashes are suicides. This information could be valuable for society, particularly since some of the probable suicides actually killed or critically injured innocent bystanders in the process of taking their own lives. Yet the ethical questions still must be faced. Was Zellner's deception (in misrepresenting his motives for study) unethical? Or was it justified by the social value of his findings?
As in the study of tearoom trade, the answers are not immediately apparent. Like Humphreys, Zellner appeared to have admirable motives and took great care in protecting confidentiality. Names of suspected suicides were not revealed to insurance companies, though Zellner did recommend that the insurance industry drop double indemnity (payment of twice the person's life insurance premium in the event of accidental death) in the future.
Zellner's study raised an additional ethical issue: the possibility of harm to those who were interviewed. Subjects were asked if the deceased had "talked about suicide" and if they had spoken of how "bad or useless" they were. Could these questions have led people to guess the true intentions of the researcher? Perhaps, but according to Zellner, none of the informants voiced such suspicions. More seriously, might the study have caused the bereaved to suspect suicide—when before the survey they had accepted the deaths as accidental? Again, we have no reason to believe this, but we cannot be sure.
Given our uncertainty about this last question, was the research justified? Was Zellner taking too large a risk in asking the friends and families of the deceased persons if they had spoken of suicide before their death? Does the right to know outweigh the right to privacy in this type of situation? And who has the right to make such a judgment? In practice, as in Zellner's study, it is the researcher, not the subjects of inquiry, who makes the critical ethical decisions. Therefore, sociologists and other investigators bear the responsibility for establishing clear and sensitive boundaries for ethical scientific investigation.