Great thinkers have always preached the value of self-awareness, from Socrates and Confucius to Nietzsche and Sartre. Yet in modern times, few subjects evoke such pretension and piety.  I therefore approach the writing of this piece with some trepidation – and humility aplenty.

It often seems as if the least self-aware people are the ones who pride themselves most on their self-awareness. Self-awareness often simply appears like self-indulgent navel gazing. However, one thing is clear: self-awareness is a vital aspiration for a qualitative researcher, sharpening their performance across the breadth of the qualitative role, as well helping them better manage the job’s emotional demands.

Self-awareness strengthens qualitative interpretation
Objectivity is often seen as the ultimate industry aspiration, ignoring the inconvenient truth that much of the power of qualitative research is attributable to its subjective nature.

Qualitative practitioners have a uniquely complex relationship with ‘data’. There is no clear line between the two. During fieldwork, you don’t only hear things or see things – you feel things too. Participants can start a sentence, and the researcher can somehow finish it in their head.

There is also the ability to interpret what isn’t said. Somehow, we emerge from groups and depths with a perspective richer than that of the observer in the back room. What is going on here is open to debate, wrapped up as it is in the complexity of human communication and connection. Nor is not just the methodology; some people are simply better at it than others – more perceptive, more intuitive and (yes) more empathetic. This is how qualitative talent differs from (merely) acquired skills.

The subjective edge that gives qualitative research its transformative power also risks confirmation bias. If nebulous concepts like ‘what is felt in the room’ are part of the data, we need to self-monitor to ensure these are not simply driven by our pre-existing beliefs.

In short, the subjectivity that drives insight needs to be managed.

Cognitive dissonance is our friend
Cognitive dissonance is the uncomfortable feeling you experience when encountering contrary evidence or arguments. When you look away, or simply reject them outright to escape that feeling – that is confirmation bias.

The greater the invested feelings, the more uncomfortable the dissonance feels. If you work with political content, you need to be conscious of your existing beliefs and biases.

The risks are not limited to political issues but are present whenever you feel strongly about something. When we come up with an insight in the early stages of a project or have taken a stand in a meeting about methodology, the feeling of cognitive dissonance can strike when you encounter contrary evidence or opinion.

Qualitative researchers should be obsessed with confirmation bias and train themselves to lean into the discomfort of cognitive dissonance.

No piece of writing these days can omit mention of AI. I think it is our subjectivity that gives human qualitative interpretation a vital edge over the AI variant – but I admit AI can be a valuable tool in managing our bias in the analysis process. My preferred phrase, arguably a little passive aggressive, is, “AI, like yourself, I am subject to bias – can we help each other manage this?”

Self-awareness can make us better moderators
Many of the theoretical underpinnings of qualitative research stem from psychotherapeutic practice. This includes recognition of the importance of self-awareness and reflexivity when talking to our participants.

We all take our emotional baggage into all our relationships, and this includes those with participants, risking instinctive emotional responses. We often take instant likes and dislikes to individual participants, which can impact how we hear them – even how we treat them. If we know our sensitivities and triggers, we can manage them better. Does an aversion to a dominant group member really stem from your desire for moderation excellence? Or perhaps there is an unconscious echo of the family dynamics you experienced as the quieter sibling? Or maybe it is because you take umbrage at any participant who risks making you look bad in front of a viewing client?

We don’t (all) need a lifetime of therapy but we all need to commit to a reflective approach to our own background and personality.

Self-awareness can help manage the challenges of qual life
OK, cue violins. Qualitative research is an an emotionally taxing job.  It is a relational discipline so, if you are doing it right, there is some degree of emotional investment in every research encounter. The performative implications of viewed sessions can also be draining. Long work hours and evening work add to the toll.

Alongside enlightened and flexible working practices, self-awareness can help. Different people are exhausted by different things, and, over time, you need to identify your ‘ideal qualitative working style’.

Are you an introvert who finds fieldwork exhausting but solitary analysis motivating? Or are you an extrovert who thrives on the social adrenaline of fieldwork but finds individual analysis energy-draining. Are you more comfortable doing two groups in one night, or two nights of one group? Are online or in-person sessions more natural to you? Once you have these answers, try to fit your working life around them. Not all of us are free to schedule our work lives to fit our working style but even small, incremental changes can help.

A final paragraph proving my self-aware credentials?
Reading back, I have failed at times to take note of my own warning about the tendency of self-awareness to slip into navel gazing. I should take a lesson from the high priest of (over) analysis, Sigmund Freud. He (allegedly) claimed that we should accept that, “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar – and just get on with stuff”.

Peter Totman is qualitative researcher at Jigsaw Research