Ethical Lessons Learned from Conducting Refugee-Based Research in an Indian Refugee Camp

Setting the context

While growing up in the southern Indian State of Kerala, I was aware of the struggles of Sri Lankan Tamil refugees. When the Sri Lankan civil war began in 1984, Tamil refugees started migrating to different countries across the world, including India (George 2009). Ninety-five per cent of the Sri Lankan Tamil refugees who came to India settled in the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu (which borders Kerala) because of the geographical, cultural, and linguistic similarities between Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka. The Tamil refugees have escaped the violence of the Sri Lankan civil war, but their futures remain uncertain. In addition, newspaper and non-governmental agencies report that pre- and post- migration traumatic experiences cause ill health and distress among Sri Lankan Tamil refugees (George 2009). Based upon the foundational knowledge I possessed about Tamil refugees, I became increasingly curious about their unique struggles and experiences, eventually identifying the mental health of Sri Lankan Tamil refugees as the focus of my research. Prior to entering my doctoral programme, I worked as a social worker in Canada, where I encountered many refugees, including Sri Lankan Tamil refugees. My curiosity about their experiences prompted my clients to introduce me to Toronto-based social service agencies working for the welfare of Sri Lankan Tamil refugees. Knowing that I would need to establish a trusting relationship with Sri Lankan Tamil community members if I hoped to conduct research about their experiences, I began volunteering with the Sri Lankan Tamil refugee community in Toronto in 2005.As a volunteer tutor, event coordinator and English translator, I formed relationships with many Tamil refugees and acquired a fuller understanding of the complex challenges facing their community. I learned that many of their family members and friends were still in Indian camps, struggling with ill health and poverty.

Through my interactions with Tamil refugees in Canada, I realized that refugees in camps in India would not openly communicate with me unless refugee elders introduced me to them and they had the opportunity to build trust with me gradually. Elders from the Toronto Sri Lankan Tamil community helped me connect with the elders in Gummidipoondi refugee camp in Chennai, India. Since 2006, I have travelled to India every summer to do volunteer work among Sri Lankan Tamil refugees in Indian camps. I continued networking and participating in community-based activities with the Sri Lankan Tamil refugee communities in Toronto and Chennai for several years (2005 to 2008). After obtaining the necessary research permit from my affiliated university and from the Indian Embassy, I travelled to Gummidipoondi refugee camp in India to conduct my doctoral research, from October to March of 2008.

Political context of Tamil refugees in camps in India

The Indian government did not sign the 1951 United Nations Refugee Convention, meaning that Indian authorities do not allow the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) to provide support within the Tamil refugee camps. This allows India to have some level of autonomy in developing migration-based policies and programmes that are specific to refugees' unique cultural, economic and political conditions. However, India has not adopted national refugee legislation or standard asylum procedures. Although India claims that refugees experience ‘no discrimination based on their race, country of origin or religion’ (Valatheeswaran and Rajan 2011), anecdotes from Tamil refugees prove that they experience severe human rights violations because of their status as refugees in India (George et al. 2015; George 2009). Although the Indian government provides food and shelter to refugees while they live in refugee camps, it has not given the Sri Lankan Tamil refugees permanent resident status or Indian citizenship, expecting them to return to Sri Lanka following the conclusion of the war (George 2009). Unless Sri Lankan Tamil refugees can provide documentation proving that their ancestors are from India, they cannot be granted the status of permanent residents within India (ibid). However, because most Sri Lankan Tamil refugees fled Sri Lanka during or immediately following personal confrontations with the violence of war, they were unable to collect any personal documents (ibid). At the same time, Sri Lanka has still not developed a structured repatriation programme. Furthermore, the Sri Lankan government does not consider Tamils to be equal to the majority Sinhalese, a perception that formed when the Sinhalese assumed control of the Sri Lankan government during the civil war between the Sinhalese and Tamil ethnic groups. For these reasons, most Tamil refugees believe that returning to Sri Lanka is not a viable option for them (George et al. 2015). Most importantly, second and third generation Tamil refugees who were born in Indian refugee camps view India as their home country (ibid). The state of limbo in which the Tamil refugees find themselves represents a human rights challenge which limits their ability to support their families and exercise personal agency.

My upbringing in India, knowledge of research practices, and my experiences as both a clinical social worker and a volunteer for refugee populations offered substantial preparation for the implementation of my dissertation research. However, thinking about the differences between theoretical research discussed in the classroom and the real-life application of research methodologies in an international field, which involves confrontation with social and political contextual challenges, made me feel vulnerable. Had my upbringing, graduate training, clinical experience and volunteer work adequately prepared me to conduct scientific, academic, international research? Is it possible to conduct international refugee research based on traditional research training and the ethical standards of universities? Despite my doubts, I remained hopeful. I was conducting my first international research project in my Indian community, where you can draw on the support of your friends, family, community members and other researchers (Gready 2014: 197).

An ethical framework for refugee research

While I was investigating ethical guidelines for my international research with refugees, I came across several ethical frameworks (i.e. Mackenzie et al. 2007; Hyndman 2000; Hynes 2003). However, the majority highlighted only a few central ethical challenges, such as consent forms, academic ethical reviews, and trust building and peace negotiations, without providing an overarching set of principles intended to guide responses to the many ethical dilemmas that can arise in the field unexpectedly. Around this time, I attended an international research workshop which briefly discussed Richard Rowson's book ‘Working Ethics: How to be Fair in a Culturally Complex World’ (2006). Rowson (2010) developed the FAIR (Fairness, Autonomy, Integrity, and Results) framework as an ethical guide for the entire course of the international research process in the natural science, social science and medical fields. After the workshop, I explored the FAIR framework further in an attempt to develop an adaptive research plan that would prepare me for the uncertain circumstances that often characterize international refugee research (Browne and Moffett 2014). Rowson's FAIR framework specifically helped me to integrate the concepts of fairness, autonomy, integrity, and results into my interdisciplinary (social work, community development, and mental health) international research with the Sri Lankan Tamil refugee population in India. The FAIR framework guided me in negotiating many cross-cultural socio-political dilemmas, though I still encountered challenges in its application to more complex situations. Below, I present the FAIR framework (in a different acronym sequence to maintain the flow of content in each section), outlining the potential usefulness of its application to international refugee research and discussing its limitations. I focus here on the experience of the researcher, because I believe that in order to truly give voice to vulnerable refugee populations the researcher must engage in a rigorous, constant, and highly self-reflective ethical examination.

Being FAIR by connecting with the community

Researchers who conduct international research often struggle to provide fair treatment to research stakeholders due to the multiple and complex differences that exist within the research participant communities (Rowson 2006). Rowson (2010) emphasizes that fairness requires researchers to identify strengths, differences, concerns and tensions within the participant community and design a study that accounts for the unique characteristics of participants. For example, researchers designing a study for a specific refugee population based on general refugee literature might not recognize the distinct strengths and weaknesses that differentiate each refugee community, such as Tamil, Somali, and Syrian, from the others.

Dedicating time to the development of a trusting relationship with the specific refugee community is key to understanding its unique characteristics, which will, in turn, help the researcher to create a fair research process (Weaver and Burns 2001). Providing volunteer services in both Toronto, Canada and Chennai, India over a three-year period allowed me to develop trusting relationships with members of the Tamil refugee community. Through the formation of these relationships, I increased my knowledge of Tamil culture and polished my Tamil language skills, allowing me to engage in formal and informal communication with the Tamil community before solidifying my research questions. Knowledge of Sri Lankan Tamil refugees' culture, history, ethnicity, values and beliefs provided me with a starting point for interpreting their conversations and understanding the meaning of health and family from their own point of view. More so than my education and formal training, volunteer experience taught me to attend to the minor details in refugee camps, often resulting in crucial inside information.

For example, for Sri Lankan Tamils, divisions exist along class and political lines, a fact of which I was unaware when I entered the field in Canada and India. While a refugee community may appear unified to an outsider, I learned from my experience that strong disagreements among the community can carry major consequences. Most refugee-based theories and research studies promote the idea of viewing each refugee community as a singular group (Darling 2014). However, the majority of the Tamils in Canada were Jaffna Tamils (from northern Sri Lanka) and most of the Tamils in Indian refugee camps were Batticaloa Tamils (from eastern Sri Lanka). Although these two groups engage in compassionate communication, the Batticaloa Tamils maintain a quiet resentment toward the wealthier Jaffna Tamils. The Jaffna Tamils had money to give to brokers to travel to Canada. The smugglers reportedly charge between 25,000 and 50,000 US dollars (between 16,000 and 33,000 pounds sterling) to take a person from Sri Lanka to places like Australia or Canada (Natarajan 2012). Learning about the class conflict among Sri Lankan Tamil refugees in Canada and India motivated my research mentor to counsel me to avoid delivering messages between these two groups and to narrow my focus to conduct research only in India.

This situation prompted me to expand my thoughts on Rowson's concept of ‘fairness’ (Rowson 2006, 2010). I recognized the potential research challenges that might arise as a result of the Tamil refugee class conflict, but I felt that it was not ethical to choose one side over the other only to avoid potential conflict. This dilemma was startling for an early career researcher whose only intention was to ease the pain of an underserved community. Rather than impose any outside judgements, my goal was to approach my relationships with Tamil refugees in India and Canada with the open attitude of a sincere learner who wanted to clearly understand their struggles. However, from my mentor's point of view, ‘being fair’ not only included fairness for research participants, but also fairness for the researcher. My mentor emphasized that assuming the role of liaison between the Indian and Canadian groups would insert me into their class struggles, hampering my ability to complete my research project on time. I recognized that Rowson's conceptualization of fairness focused on research participants, omitting the fair treatment of the researcher. Based on my experience, I crafted an alternative approach to ‘fairness’ that took account of the limited resources available to the researcher and of common sense. To me, it was important to conduct in-depth, focused research within a limited time frame, within a limited financial budget, to get better results for the people I am studying. In addition, my advisor felt that focusing on one group in India would not only strengthen the quality of my research, but would also help me generate in-depth learning about conducting international research. Indeed, the intense fieldwork and consequent interactions helped me to hear and highlight the refugee voices more cohesively and clearly. For example, I had the opportunity to meet with refugees and listen as they told unique stories of their experiences in a refugee camp.

The development of survey questions for my research project brought to light another disagreement within the refugee community. When discussing possible research questions with residents of Gummidipoondi camp, an argument emerged regarding the use of the term ‘kudiyettam’, meaning ‘permanent settlement’, to refer to the refugee camps. Because the Indian government refuses to grant permanent resident status to refugees, some refugees felt that the term ‘kudiyettam’ did not adequately convey the unstable and uncertain nature of their living situation. At the same time, some refugees supported using ‘kudiyettam’ because they felt that use of the term would recognize the temporary supports the Indian government provided to refugees, such as housing, education, and monetary support. To conduct research in a fair and ethical manner, researchers must become familiar with and acknowledge disagreements that exist within the refugee community and maintain a neutral viewpoint (Smith 2009). Because I had consistently demonstrated my trustworthiness and neutrality, community elders supported my efforts to understand and resolve disagreements pertaining to my research. The community elders assisted me in coordinating and recruiting participation in a community forum to discuss the use of ‘kudiyettam’ in survey questions and address any other concerns about my proposed research project. The community forum yielded a rich discussion around the implications of ‘kudiyettam’, eventually revealing that those on both sides of the disagreement understood the concerns of the other side. Based on the suggestions of community members, I changed the wording of several survey questions to use ‘abhyarthi jeevitham’, meaning ‘refugee life’ instead of ‘kudiyettam’. I was able to incorporate the wording changes prior to having the research questionnaires translated and back-translated. Through this experience, I learned how to address community tensions from a grassroots level, avoiding quick ‘errors in judgement, and even the application of stereotypic assumptions’ (Sommers-Flanagan 2007: 195). The community forum provided an opportunity for members of the Sri Lankan Tamil refugee community to raise their voice to address concerns, identify their own solutions and exercise their personal and collective power, further promoting fairness within my research process.

Seeking best RESULTS through assessment

Forced migration results in disrupted community and social networks, contests over limited resources, multiple public health risks, and heightened instances of human rights abuses, including sexual and gender-based violence. These factors, and the associated vulnerability and marginalization of displaced populations, highlight the need for knowledge and understanding of refugee populations. This has led to a considerable rise in research about and among these groups, placing refugees at great risk of exploitative and damaging research practices (Allotey and Manderson 2003). The purpose of human subject research is to find sustainable outcomes that enhance the well-being of individuals (Marshall and Rossman 1999). To achieve this purpose, researchers must fulfil two obligations: prevent and/or avoid causing harm, and produce as many benefits as possible. While the ethics of academic research involving human subjects has long been a concern for universities and researchers, there is growing recognition that refugee researchers must demonstrate that benefits are likely to far outweigh any harm caused.

My university ethics committee conducted an initial review of my research proposal. Ethics committees often lack resources to gain knowledge about the application of ethical principles to different social and political contexts, thus they are not aware of the various consequences that research may have for refugees in these diverse contexts (Sieber 2006). The lack of awareness is often expressed as caution in granting ethics approval to conduct research in a developing country so as to avoid potential ethical issues, especially human rights violations. In this case, my university ethics committee requested an expert opinion from a Sri Lankan Tamil community member in Canada who was also an academic. This process helped the ethics committee to conduct a benefit/risk analysis to ensure that my research proposal was in compliance with both the university ethical standards and the cultural values of the Sri Lankan Tamil refugee community. Following the consultation with the Sri Lankan Tamil community member, I received university ethics committee approval.

Sri Lankan Tamil refugee community elders in India and a community advisory board requested to review my research proposal prior to issuing their support of data collection inside refugee camps. They informed me that they would not grant community ethics approval unless I had a mentor from the Sri Lankan Tamil community while I completed data collection in India. The reasons given for this requirement were: 1) to provide weekly mentorship while I was collecting data in Chennai; and 2) to eliminate my preconceived judgements, biases and generalizations about Tamil refugees that might influence the accuracy of the research outcomes. My university ethics committee and the FAIR framework emphasized the importance of producing sustainable research outcomes in order to best serve the participant community. However, neither of these ethical guidelines outline details of the practical process for achieving best results in an international field setting. By requesting mentorship of the researcher by a community member, the Sri Lankan Tamil refugee elders offered a creative approach to addressing the practical concerns related to securing best results. The mentorship helped me learn about Tamil culture and mental health, and cultivate an awareness of my biases. I resubmitted my ethics application to the university ethics committee, including the request from Sri Lankan Tamil refugee community elders and a community advisory board that I receive mentorship. The university ethics committee accepted the suggestion and approved of the mentor whom the community elders selected. Despite differences between the university ethics committee and the community ethics body regarding policies to obtain the best research outcomes, both were flexible and respectful toward each other, providing me with the necessary support and guidance to achieve the best possible results by minimizing the risk of harm and maximizing potential benefits to the participant community.

Based on my professional values, I defined best results not only in terms of a risk/benefit analysis, but also in terms of my ability to give voice to an extremely marginalized population. I knew that I would need to remain as objective as possible in order to achieve this goal. Throughout the data collection period, I engaged in daily reflection and self-assessment, maintaining a reflexive journal in which I could analyse my actions as a researcher. Writing a reflexive journal helped me separate my subjective experiences as an individual from my objective observations as a researcher, ultimately enabling me to maintain empathetic neutrality by not aligning with any specific perspective (Patton 2002). I allowed the research participants to set the pacing of interviews, even though this meant that on some days I was unable to complete even one interview. Throughout the data collection period, I engaged in weekly meetings with my community mentor, discussing my experiences in order to better manage my subjective biases. Each step in this process allowed me to give an authentic voice to the refugees in my study. In this way, they are able to challenge a system that marginalizes them.

Ensuring AUTONOMY from all vested interests

Autonomy requires that researchers are free from the vested interests and preconceived judgements of sponsoring institutions and the participant community (Rowson 2010). My academic institution examined my proposal to confirm that my research would be independent of my preconceived judgements about the Tamil refugee community. However, Sri Lankan Tamil refugee community elders recognized that my academic institution was sponsoring my research; therefore, they wanted to ensure that my university was not exercising coercion with participants in order to promote its vested interests. This led me to seek out an agency partner within the Tamil refugee community and establish a community advisory board. During my groundwork period to gain entry into the community I had worked with the Organization for Eelam Refugee Rehabilitation (OfERR), a social service agency that provides ongoing support to the Tamil refugees in Chennai, including those at the Gummidipoondi camp (OfERR 2013), Accordingly I eagerly selected OfERR as a collaborative community partner. I based this decision upon the belief that OfERR would work for the benefit of the Tamil refugees, not for any personal gains. Also, the decision to collaborate with OfERR would not alienate me from the participants. OfERR provided a safe environment for me and the participants. Because of my existing relationships within the community and with OfERR, participants felt comfortable discussing their concerns about the research, when necessary. The community advisory board included, in addition to myself, a psychiatrist from Chennai, a social worker from OfERR, and two Sri Lankan Tamil refugees living in Indian refugee camps. The community advisory board met once per month, and its members voiced any apprehensions they had. It contributed insights throughout the data collection period, especially regarding the maintenance of my autonomy and the autonomy of the participants.

I encountered a dilemma related to autonomy when I attempted to incentivize participation in the research project. In my research proposal and ethics application, I was approved to provide 100 rupees (equivalent to 1.62 US dollars or 1.03 pounds sterling) to each of the 50 research participants as compensation for their time. The community ethics body neglected to raise their concerns related to the proposed incentive during their ethics approval process. However, when I arrived in India in October 2008 to officially begin data collection, Sri Lankan community elders expressed concern about the use of an incentive. The elders suggested that the amount of the incentive might coerce the participation of refugees, the majority of whom were living in extreme poverty. Also, because the incentive would be granted only to participants, the use of an incentive might incite conflict between the refugees who were randomly selected to participate in the study and those who were not able to participate in the study. The community advisory board advised me to withdraw the incentive in order to avoid coercion and conflict. I thought my university ethics board would agree with the recommendation of the community advisory board and insist that I cancel the incentive. However, I wanted to ensure that my research was free from the vested interests and the preconceived judgements of institutions. I also wanted to acknowledge the participant community's time and effort in collaborating with my research. My commitment to autonomy helped me to negotiate with the community advisory board and Sri Lankan community elders. I acknowledged the concerns of the community elders, but I hesitated to cancel the incentive entirely. Instead, I decided to donate the amount budgeted for the incentive to the school fund for the camp refugee children. Donating the funds allowed me to support the interests of the refugee community while avoiding possible coercion and conflict. The community elders and the university ethics board accepted this change to my research project. This experience exemplified the practical challenges that often accompany the implementation of refugee research. Although the use of an incentive did not appear problematic when crafting my proposal, it created a significant dilemma in the field. Because such challenges are inevitable when conducting refugee research, creativity, flexibility, and sensitivity must guide the researcher in balancing her research agenda with the needs of the refugee community (Wamai 2014).

The issue of informed consent presented a similar dilemma related to respecting the autonomy of potential participants, especially due to the research context of a developing country. Ensuring autonomy during the consent procedure taught me to approach informed consent as a process requiring flexibility and common sense rather than a regimented procedure based on university ethics (Darling 2014). An in-depth literature review informed me that the process of signing an informed consent document has the potential to remind refugee participants of past traumatic experiences during which they experienced coercion by powerful individuals (Weaver 2005). Therefore, in lieu of a consent form, many ethics committees accept use of an information sheet which describes the purpose of the study, study procedures, privacy, and confidentiality (Omidian 2000). My research mentor also advised me to use an information sheet instead of a consent form. However, the community advisory board offered a different perspective, suggesting that the use of a consent form would empower Tamil refugees. In addition to describing the study and presenting the risks and benefits associated with participation, a consent form would provide an opportunity for Tamil refugees to exercise personal autonomy by expressing their written agreement to participate in the research. Because few studies have focused on Sri Lankan Tamil refugees, the literature review I carried out did not reveal information about the use of consent forms with that specific refugee population. Upon speaking with several members of the refugee community, I learned that Tamil refugees perceived consent as a human right, not as a form of coercion. In the case of Tamil refugees, the most ethical course of action for my research involved the preservation of participant autonomy through the use of informed consent.

Demonstrating INTEGRITY by valuing identities and privileges

Establishing integrity in research means being truthful and respectful to all parties involved throughout the research process (Rowson 2010). The researcher demonstrates truthfulness and respect through her research design and decision-making, but also through the way she represents herself in the research context. During my groundwork period, I became increasingly aware of how my various identities—southern Indian, female, researcher, Canadian—influenced my interactions with the Tamil refugee community.

The Sri Lankan community comes from a patriarchal society that tends to systematically exclude women (George 2008). Creating relationships based on common experiences of female gender within the patriarchal Tamil community was difficult. Nonetheless, I created connections with female refugees because south Indians face similar oppressive patriarchal experiences. One participant spoke out:

I don't want to do an arranged marriage. Dowry worries me. We don't have money to give as dowry … My parents don't have any money to pay for my dowry. What happens if my husband continues to ask for more money and starts beating? … No one questions why women have to suffer. Everyone will say you should respect your husband, so you patiently suffer … If I don't listen, family/community members will shun me. And then, what if I can't make a son? (George et al. 2015)

Within the refugee community, my south Indian identity eclipsed my identity as an Indian generally, which was fortunate considering the hostility that some refugees feel toward the Indian government. Although the Indian government historically has demonstrated reluctance to grant permanent resident status to Sri Lankan Tamil refugees, Indians who live in the southern states have supported Tamils' cries for permanency in India. Therefore, as a southern Indian, I became a Tamil community friend and an insider who knew the struggles of the Sri Lankan Tamil community (Gans 1999). Complicating the issue was the fact that Tamil refugees believed I could connect with Indian government officials to negotiate for their visa status. To counter this perception, I detailed the purpose of my research and also my dissemination plan. My research purpose was to examine the mental health of Tamil refugees, not to advocate on their behalf for permanent resident status or Indian citizenship. However, I did state my willingness to inform those to whom the research would be disseminated about the Tamil refugees' concerns related to lack of resident status in India.

As an educated Canadian woman, I had to come to terms with the privilege I carried with me (Wamai 2014). My status as an Indian living in an individualistic society like Canada gave me access to key community leaders and men with whom females would not normally converse (Papanek 1973). I tried to be aware of this disparity in power and how it affected my interactions with the participants (Goodkind and Deacon 2004). The Tamil community acknowledged this disparity of power by saying ‘it's a God's grace for an Indian woman to reach this far, so you can help your community’. They saw me as a woman of power who could empower the community (Wamai 2014). This identity transformed me from an outsider to an ‘honourable male’ in the Tamil community (Hammersley and Atkinson 1983: 86). I took measures to make sure that my subjective experiences as a woman of power would not influence my judgements. I shared my thoughts with community elders, who were perceived as neutral, and who helped me to separate the views I held as a researcher from the views I held as an Indian woman. Additionally, as a Canadian, I was a person to whom refugees could talk more openly and freely since I was an outsider, whereas had I been a member of the Tamil community, I would have posed a greater threat to privacy and confidentiality. This paradox facilitated both disclosure and interaction (Neufield et al. 2001). During weekly meetings with my mentor, I discussed strategies for maintaining an ‘authentic identity’ during research activities (Wamai 2014) and reflected on how these identities influenced my perception of interactions with research participants.

Finally, I considered the implications of my identity as a researcher for my research. I was positioned as an academic authority and expert figure with the capacity to impact the community. During my fieldwork, I was constantly thinking about my diverse identities and making efforts to undermine these identities (Darling 2014). To me, demonstrating integrity in research relates to how I represent myself in the research context. Am I truthful and respectful to all parties involved without losing my true self? A constant reflection upon our identities is critical when a researcher conducts his or her research (Williams 2001). My experience taught me to be aware of the researcher's insider and outsider positionalities which may positively or negatively influence the research.

From my research, I have also learned to acknowledge the uniqueness and integrity of each refugee community. Researchers need to acknowledge and identify specific cultural beliefs, values, and practices, as well as the ‘group-defined markers of differences within the refugee community’ (Smith 2009: 69). As a beginner, I faced many dilemmas to apply in the field the theories I learned from the classroom. Initially, I pushed myself to learn as much as possible about the Tamil culture, intently listening to their struggles with a notebook in hand. I attempted to respond to their needs while also constantly fearing my inability to do so. When I started my research, I was concerned about the impact that my multiple identities could have on my integrity as a researcher, and I consciously made efforts to undermine these positions through engaging in self-reflection and seeking guidance from my mentor. Later, I realized that my decision to seek guidance from the Sri Lankan Tamil community helped us to embrace our true selves. My willingness to leave behind my familiar identities and embrace the new experiences and challenges compelled the Sri Lankan Tamil refugees to see me as a person with integrity who made uncompromising choices for their welfare. Therefore, the Tamil refugees and I enjoyed our time together as a team.

One field experience particularly helped me to relax. In the beginning of my volunteer service in India, the Sri Lankan Tamil refugee elders, participants in the community advisory board, my mentor, and members of the older generation started calling me ‘makal’, meaning ‘daughter’. I had not expected to have a very personal identity which made me so close to the community. I enquired about this interaction style with my mentor and he remarked that Tamil culture expects teachers to regard female students as their own daughters and male students as their own sons. That is the ‘guru−shishya bandham’ (teacher−student relationship). In Tamil culture, older generations are considered teachers to the younger generations. Following the guidance of my mentor, I responded in a similar fashion with respect, by standing when elders walked into the room, and saying ‘vanakkam by touching their feet’ (the traditional Tamil greeting). At the same time, the younger Tamil refugee generation saw me as their teacher, and showed me the same respect that I paid to their older generation. To be honest, this cultural interaction was not new to me; it brought back memories of my upbringing in southern India. Often, when researchers go to the field, they take various measures to decrease the power dynamics between themselves and participants to encourage open discussion. Whatever measures researchers take, there are still some gaps that exist, creating distance between ‘me’ and ‘them’ (Hyndman 2009). From my research experience, our mutual interaction style helped them to see me as ‘their own kind’ which grounded me with my participants, allowing me to examine their struggles with a clear lens. Most importantly, my participants believed in my commitment to their community and saw me as a person with integrity. My weekly mentoring sessions helped me to minimize my ‘intensity’ and to be ‘who I am’. As Wamai (2014) discussed, I recognized that social acceptance is required to build trust and rapport with the participant community, and I can earn respect with my integrity.

Conclusion

The vulnerable nature of refugee populations demands a careful consideration of the ethical dilemmas that can arise when conducting international refugee research. However, a disconnect exists between the theoretical development of a research design and the process of implementing a research design among a refugee population. Based on my experience conducting doctoral research, fieldwork ‘produces more than simply data’; fieldwork begets ethical dilemmas to which the researcher must respond (Darling 2014: 210). The FAIR framework (Rowson 2010) provides an ethics guide for researchers engaging in international refugee research by emphasizing fairness, autonomy, integrity, and best results. Utilizing the FAIR framework during my research encouraged me to acknowledge the unique cultural practices and beliefs of the Tamil refugee community and to build a mutually trusting relationship with the research participants. The FAIR framework also assisted me in prioritizing competing ethical demands and assuming accountability for the research process and outcome. I encountered several unexpected dilemmas during the implementation of my research project, so the FAIR framework proved most useful when applied directly during fieldwork rather than during the development of my research design. Because every refugee community is unique, researchers must apply the FAIR framework in various independent refugee studies before academics can use the framework effectively to teach future researchers about ethical research practices. Until then, the FAIR framework may serve as a useful tool for those engaged in international refugee research, along with the indispensable qualities of flexibility, creativity, and sound judgement.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Dr Paul Gready for his comments on initial drafts of this manuscript. Many thanks to Njoki Wamai and Dr Jonathan Darling. I am grateful to the Organization for Eelam Refugee Rehabilitation (OfERR) for their enormous support. Most importantly, Nanri to all Sri Lankan Tamil refugees.

References