When music therapists embark on a research project they typically articulate a question to guide and focus their endeavours. This process is a significant stage of the research journey and is often the first moment of focused thinking and deliberation on the selected the topic. Although a great deal of research is pain-stakingly detailed and meticulous work, I always find this in-depth thinking to be an equally challenging aspect of the research experience. It requires the researcher to achieve a state of deep mental focus on the selected topic, which I liken to the experience of meditation. Once this state has been achieved, I usually undertake a kind of debate, with myself, my peers and sometimes a supervisor, about the nuance of the question and its expression. The results are often fastidious - minor word changes, experimentation with more appropriate synonyms to capture the real intention of the question, and deliberating issues of phrasing and grammar. But the process is conceptual, creative and intellectual. This has been detailed in the music therapy literature (Bruscia, 2005; Wheeler, 2005).
In this discussion, I would like to describe my perspective on the less overt elements of this process of question refinement. It is my opinion that the questions we create for research projects are often only part of the real inquiry. I believe that beneath a carefully phrased research question there are hidden questions that are more personal than the professional version. Professional questions about client benefit may result from personal questions about therapist competence. Professional questions of client outcome may result from personal questions about musical capacity. Of course, these questions are as context bound as their professional partners - they are shaped by our experiences and our thoughts, our clients and our colleagues, our successes and our failures.
Bruscia's (1998) text on the Dynamics of Music Psychotherapy provides some valuable insights into these underlying dynamics, although not designed entirely for this purpose. In his chapter on The Signs of Countertransference (pp. 71 – 91) he articulates a number of questions that challenge the therapist to consider which aspects of our work may be manifesting in our approach to clients and our experiences with them. I drew heavily on this chapter in developing an epoche for my doctoral dissertation, and found that the concept of countertransference was useful outside the direct therapeutic setting. In relating this to the identification of hidden questions in research, I find the material on clinical specialisations, the use of music and interpersonal style to be very insightful. No doubt each researcher's areas of dynamic resonance are individual.
My own doctoral research question was driven by a 'hidden question' (as I am calling them for the purposes of this discussion). It was not always disguised as such, and was actually my overt purpose for considering a research pathway. I remember very clearly standing in the office of my manager at a community based palliative care program. I was arguing for the provision of music therapy services to young people who had relatives dying on our program. A colleague, who was the Community Development worker, had seeded this argument in my mind and it was she who had identified this gap and asked me to consider the relevance of music for this group. I had experimented a little with providing services and had become convinced of its potential. But when it came to articulating an argument to my boss, I was at a loss. In my mind I was wondering, “but can I really help?”. This was my hidden question. It has a number of layers, the first of which questions the value of the whole profession of music therapy. Does music really help anybody? Does this work, for which I have completed 4 years of training, really make a difference? The second is more personal still and addressed my own competence to make a difference to bereaved young people. What do I do? Are my musical skills good enough? Are my therapy skills good enough? Am I good enough? Luckily for me, my manager heard enough of an argument to allow me to further develop these clinical services. And for my part, with the guidance of Clare O'Callaghan, who was providing me with clinical supervision at the time, I decided that the best way to proceed would be to investigate! Clare could see a research question in almost every personal dilemma, and this was a question that I really wanted to answer. Ultimately this question was investigated using a phenomenological framework and was therefore phrased as 'What is the experience of group music therapy for six bereaved adolescents?'. This allowed me to ask my personal question to the teenagers themselves – what helped you about what I just got you to do? It also allowed me to analyse the music they made in order to determine whether any changes did take place in their musical material. All my questions were answered and I was satisfied with the outcomes of my work.
Another example is the important research project conducted by the first Masters student I supervised, Lucy O'Grady (who has graciously given me permission to interpret her research question). Lucy was doing powerful work with women in the prison system, working on performance projects as the musical director. Her management would not allow her to use the term 'music therapy' for a number of reasons (see O'Grady & McFerran, in press) and Lucy was beginning to wonder whether she really was working as a music therapist at all. Before the popularisation of Community Music Therapy, the idea of working towards performance had often been criticised within the Australian music therapy discipline. It did not sit easily with what Ansdell (Pavlicevic & Ansdell, 2004) has since titled the 'Consensus Model' of music therapy, a model that requires safe and confidential disclosure within closed sessions occurring on a regular basis. This more fluid 'community' model of practice assumed a need for self-disclosure and for musical performance. Although many music therapists were working towards performances or working in more emancipatory models, as suggested by Stige (2002), this was not endorsed within the Australian profession as a traditional style of practice. So Lucy's question was really about whether she was a 'valid' music therapist, even though she was not called a music therapist in her facility, and she did not work within the consensus model. This may have had personal questions about being 'good enough' to be a music therapist, and it certainly led her to ponder whether she was actually a community minded musician more than a therapist. For Lucy, the carefully refined question that ultimately underpinned her research was 'What is the relationship between community music and community music therapy?'. The answers to this question have pushed the boundaries of contemporary understandings of music therapy practice and provided Lucy with a platform to develop her work in new directions without needing to fear about whether or not this is 'valid'. Once again, a level of satisfaction was achieved.
So is it necessary to acknowledge the hidden, as well as the overt questions that drive our research? As I gain experience in supervising the research projects of others, I am increasingly convinced that acknowledgement is fundamental. Research is hard work and it is rare for the beginning researcher to understand just how repetitive much of the work ahead of them will be. Research is held in high esteem in our profession, and there is a certain 'glory' attached to the idea of taking time out of clinical work in order to focus on a single investigation. I find that many students are surprised by the expectations of a literature review, and shocked by the tedium of an ethics application. The complexities of administrating data collection can be beyond expectation, and the level of networking and compromise that is required is sometimes overwhelming. This is all before data analysis and the creation of an extensively edited thesis! I believe that the motivation to remain focused and excited about a research project is closely related to answering the hidden questions. If a project has slipped into a professional mode that can no longer be identified with the origins of the questioning, it may seem pointless to a new researcher. In my understanding, the first research project of a new researcher is usually a University based Masters degree. Australian students identify their own topic in this case, whereas in some other profession a Masters or Doctorate is more clearly identified as training for a research degree. In those circumstances, students are recruited to investigate topics identified by their supervisors and the personal motivation is less significant. Within the music therapy profession, experienced researchers and academics have many layers of motivation for their research projects. It may be that they are investigating topics of personal interest, or examining a topic considered to be of important to the profession, or that they have received funding for a topic that is considered important to the Government. At any rate, the professional researcher generally knows what lies ahead and has decided to complete the task. The beginning researcher is usually motivated by their clinical work and a desire to become more competent, or to be recognised for their competence in the field, and this is closely related to their motivation for finishing the journey they have begun.
The use of the word 'hidden' is a dramatic way to engage the reader in a discussion of what is essentially the 'original' question that leads to research. Nonetheless, there could be a tendency to undermine the value of these novice constructions unless we acknowledge them openly. Hidden, original, fundamental, underlying… in essence, all the questions that drive a research project are important. And answering them can be extremely rewarding.
Bruscia, K. (Ed.)(1998). The Dynamics of Music Psychotherapy. Gilsum, NH : Barcelona Publishers.
Bruscia, K. (2005). Research Topics and Questions in Music Therapy. In B. Wheeler (Ed.) Music Therapy Research. Gilsum, NH : Barcelona Publishers.
O'Grady, L. & McFerran, K. (In press). Birthing Feminist Community Music Therapy: The Progeny of Community Music Therapy Practice and Feminist Therapy Theory. In S. Hadley (Ed.) Feminist Music Therapy. Gilsum, NH : Barcelona Publishers.
Pavlicevic, M. & Ansdell, G. (2004). Community Music Therapy. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.
Stige, B. (2002). Culture-centered Music Therapy. Gilsum, NH : Barcelona Publishers.
Wheeler, (2005). Developing a Topic. In B. Wheeler (Ed.) Music Therapy Research. Gilsum, NH : Barcelona Publishers.
McFerran, Katrina (2006). Hidden and Professional Questions in Music Therapy Research. Voices Resources. Retrieved January 11, 2015, from http://testvoices.uib.no/community/?q=colmcferran270306