When research becomes violence

What is the purpose of research? Is it to generate academic publications? Is it to catalogue problems? Or is it to create wish lists for donors? We must think carefully about this. Have you ever asked questions that cause more harm than good to the respondent? Consider a young woman who has experienced sexual violence. She already carries trauma. Your research questions can retraumatise her. This is violence.

Do you seek proper permission before asking sensitive questions? Do you request consent before taking photographs of malnourished children? Do you consider how images of human suffering strip people of their dignity? The common excuse is that these graphic stories and photos help secure funding. This justification does not mitigate the harm. This is violence. Many researchers remain unaware of this harm. Media outlets often act as sensationalist researchers. They collect information and choose to portray the worst scenarios. Their defence is that positive stories do not sell. This is violence.

I teach research methodology and train field teams across various countries. Time is often limited for these teams, who may be new to research. Despite time constraints, I emphasise research ethics above all else. I insist on seeking permission before proceeding. I state clearly that participants need not answer all questions. I affirm their right to opt out at any time. I ensure interview spaces feel safe. I guarantee confidentiality and anonymisation of all shared information.

I recently met with high school girls participating in an empowerment programme. Previous groups had been vocal and eager to share. This group was different. None were willing to speak. I had allocated two hours for discussion. I asked if they had participated in programme activities. They said yes. I asked what activities they had joined. I received only monosyllabic responses. I shifted to unrelated topics. Still, they remained silent. A senior woman teacher attempted to force them to respond. I intervened. I explained that sharing was their right, not their obligation.

The violence of selective blindness

What truths must we ignore to keep our data clean? How do our research frameworks actively choose which suffering matters?

Research becomes dangerous when it erases painful truths. A Malawi survey documented women's farming contributions but ignored the domestic violence they faced for spending earnings. A Nigerian maternal health study recorded clinic attendance but omitted how husbands controlled women's mobility.

These research failures have brutal consequences. They create programmes that address symptoms while ignoring root causes. They make structural violence appear to be individual failure. They waste resources on interventions that cannot possibly succeed.

We must ask uncomfortable questions about our methodology. Who designed this research to avoid difficult truths? What suffering does our approach ignore? Whose pain becomes invisible through our framing?

In South Sudan, we evaluated a gender-based violence programme. Our research revealed that decades of conflict had traumatised entire communities. Women and girls carried the additional burden of sexual violence. The programme initially focused solely on women survivors. Our findings exposed a critical gap. True safety for women required transforming the ecosystem around them. We documented that sustainable change needed intentional engagement with both young and older men to promote positive masculinity. It also demanded robust safeguarding to prevent the research and programme itself from retraumatising survivors. The programme evolved. It integrated safeguarding not as an afterthought, but as a core principle to do no further harm. It actively engaged men not as perpetrators to be managed, but as essential allies in creating a community where women's empowerment could be safe and sustained.

The ethics of seeing complete humanity

Can research methodology itself become an act of respect? What does it mean to design studies that honour full human complexity?

Positionality requires acknowledging our limitations. I always state that my education and urban privilege constrain my understanding of rural poverty. I confess that my professional success creates distance from the women I study.

Participatory design demands surrendering control. In Zimbabwe, we allowed grandmothers to redesign our nutrition study. They taught us that hunger has seasonal patterns and shame has distinct flavours. They demonstrated how poverty's experience changes throughout the year.

In Uganda, I questioned why island communities remained isolated despite road maintenance funds. Ministry officials could not explain why districts returned unused money. Simple observation revealed the obvious gap. These districts were separated by water. They needed ferries, not just roads. Later, the Uganda Participatory Poverty Assessment Process confirmed this reality. It captured what numbers had missed - communities needed connections across water, not just land.

Ongoing consent recognises people's right to protect their pain. We regularly check if women still wish to share their trauma. We explain how their stories might be used against them. We acknowledge that some truths are too burdensome to disclose.

Research that gives rather than takes

What if communities ended our research sessions richer than they began? How do we measure what we leave behind rather than what we extract?

Research should leave communities stronger. In South Africa, we trained women to document their own marginalisation. They learnt to collect evidence about their exclusion. They used this knowledge to demand their rightful resources.

We must challenge the extraction model of research. International experts should not harvest data like natural resources. We need approaches that build permanent local capacity and transfer genuine power.

Monitoring systems often commit epistemic violence. They demand data that requires exposing vulnerability. They create incentives to conceal failure and perform success.

We need systems that prioritise truth over tidiness. We should reward staff for revealing painful realities. We must create safe spaces for admitting what does not work.

Research for gender equality requires moral courage. We must question how our methods perpetuate harm. We need the humility to learn from those who survive what we merely study. The best research does not just describe broken systems. It helps dismantle them. It does not just observe suffering. It helps alleviate it. This requires methods that acknowledge pain honestly and respond to it ethically.