The beauty of Kurdistan has overwhelmed many journalists and researchers and the hospitality of the people has to be experienced to be believed. Major parts of Kurdistan have been heavily affected by conflicts and wars since ancient times. For almost 30 years, the armed conflict between the Turkish military and the PKK52 has had serious consequences for the region – also for the natural environment. In addition, the war-like situation makes it difficult for researchers to move freely in the region due to surveillance and harassment, which I experienced myself. Such conditions influence the fieldwork. In situations of emergency, the researcher often has to rely completely on local organisations, for example, NGO’s or local people. This creates a feeling of dependence on others and one positive outcome is that sometimes also close relationships or even friendships emerge (Koivunen, 2001).
Many researchers have reported that research in zones of political unrest often brings the researcher closer to the community and to the local people (Green, 1994, 1995; Koivunen, 2001; see article I). Observing the pain and the fear of the people often binds you as a researcher to the victims of the war (Koivunen, 2001). However, when you are that close, it might raise unforeseen expectations that you are not always able to fulfil. On this, Goffman, (1989) reminds us that there will always be a structural asymmetry between researcher and informants, because the researcher is free to leave the field while the informants are not (Fangen, 2004. p. 132).
Conducting research in war or conflict ridden areas often brings the researcher into situations that are extremely difficult to tackle. This also happened to me. As I was not a Kurd, nor a Turk, I had no other choice but to trust those directly involved in the struggle.
What I experienced in Diyarbakir was the strong sense of solidarity among demonstrators and bystanders. They regarded me as a visitor and at the same time as one of them. Because they expected me to report, they felt obliged to protect me. Small children as young as 5 years of age approached me to show me how to protect myself from the teargas. An old woman gave me a slice of lemon while showing me how to protect my eyes. When the military opened fire, a young man took me by the hand and we ran into the bazaars for shelter. A child and some young men were killed this very day. In the middle of this horror, I still had a strange sense of being taken care of.
52 The “dirty war” was carried out from 1984 to 1999 when Öcalan was abducted in Kenya. At the same time the PKK declared unilateral ceasefire. Even so, the clashes have continued up to this day.
The next day I went to the city mosque for the funeral. Funerals in this part of the world are not only regarded as sites for public mourning, they are also political markings.
About 10 000 people attended the funeral the first day, outside the mosque, and later at the burial ground. The coffins that were carried into the mosque were covered with the Kurdish colours, the PKK banner and pictures of the victims and Öcalan. The crowd wore the same symbols. The atmosphere was tense when I entered the open space and many of the guards looked at me with suspicion. We found an open space at the corner of the mosque. A man immediately came up to me, took my hand and asked me to follow him. We went into the cellar of the mosque. In front of me, on a white stone bench, was the tiny body of a little boy shot to death the day before. Next to him, a young man of 20 was being prepared for his last journey. They pointed at the bullet holes in his back, in order to show that he was shot as he tried to run away. The small group of people in the room watched my reactions; one of them said I had to report to the outside world what I had just witnessed.
I found myself caught in a moral dilemma where I had to choose whether to participate or leave. You are not able to choose the role of the neutral observer. The guards at the open space in front of the mosque were openly hostile until they decided to ascribe me the role as “reporter” to the outside world. When I was in the situation, it felt natural to participate. When I returned home, I realised how deeply these incidents, integral to the daily life of the people that I had met, had affected me. It is impossible not to be emotionally upset, in this kind of research, even if it contradicts the scientific claim of distance and objectivity.
During my fieldwork I constantly felt that I had to do something; it did not seem enough just to describe and analyse the problems, I also felt compelled to act as a human being. This feeling has of course also influenced my research.
As I have argued, it is difficult not to get involved with people or informants when the surroundings are heavily influenced by political unrest, which directly and indirectly affects the lives of people. Hammersley & Atkinson (2006) compare the challenge of the researcher’s position in the field to living in two worlds; that of objective research and that of close participation. While the first might result in a too distant position in the sense that you are in danger of loosing important insight in the field, the second might bring you too close to the feeling of being ‘at home’. In the latter case, the researcher may have allowed the escape of his or her critical analytic perspective. One should never surrender entirely to the setting or to the moment, but – in principle – one should constantly be alert (op.cit, pp. 115-116). Fangen (2004) raises the question of role confusion and argues that a fieldwork leads the researcher into a set of different roles in different situations. In some situations confusion concerning the
role of the researcher might occur. On the one hand, this can be problematic, but on the other, it can provide new and different data. There are no rules saying that the researcher should avoid situations where the researcher has to take on another role. Nevertheless, it is important to reflect on the implications and consequences it might bring (op.cit, pp. 116-117). Even if there were clear, objective guidelines to how these problems should be dealt with, contexts differ and each case is different. These ethical dilemmas are revitalised in new contexts every time a researcher encounters a new field of political unrest.