This chapter is written for researchers who are interested in working alongside Aboriginal people and communities to do Community-Led Research (CLR). Whatever the reason for choosing to undertake CLR, it can be challenging to get started. In fact, this can be so challenging that it prevents you from taking any action at all. We hope to encourage you to take those first steps towards CLR by sharing our journey and some Aboriginal processes we used to engage with Aboriginal knowledge and to work with Aboriginal people.

First, we would like to introduce ourselves and acknowledge our ancestors and the Country we are from and on, as this is an Aboriginal cultural protocol. Yvonne Hill and Cecil See are proud descendants of the Wiradjuri Nation and Allan Hall is a proud descendant of the Gamilaroi and Yuwaallaraay Nations. Emma Webster is a non-Aboriginal woman with Wendish, Prussian and English ancestry. Allan Hall is a Senior Aboriginal Education and Engagement Advisor with the New South Wales Education Bangamalanha Centre. Yvonne Hill and Cecil See are Aboriginal Education and Engagement Officers with the Bangamalanha Centre and Emma Webster is a research academic with the University of Sydney’s School of Rural Health. We all live and work on the special Country of the Wiradjuri people and give our respect to Elders past and present. We extend that respect to you, the reader.

The chapter starts with a story from Yvonne Hill about the killer boomerang and resolving the tension or conflict which happens in learning when two ideas or perspectives contradict each other. Using the same framework from the killer boomerang story, Emma Webster will share how she came to undertake CLR and projects. We then consider integrity in CLR, exploring how axiology, ontology, epistemology and methodology differ between Aboriginal and Western approaches. We learn about the cultural interface through a story about the returning boomerang and will finish the chapter with our thoughts about what it would take for CLR to flourish in the future.

We would like to acknowledge those who have come before us and to shared their knowledge. They have inspired us to learn about CLR and share what we know with you. In the spirit of ‘if you take something, put something back’ (NSW Department of Education, 2019), we encourage you to share your knowledge with others in the future.

We want to be clear how we are using the term CLR. Community-led means community members have or share power over the purpose, objectives and actions undertaken in a research study or project. This does not mean that the community does all the research, but does anticipate that participatory methods are used.

​The killer boomerang story

My name is Yvonne Hill. I am a Wiradjuri woman and Aboriginal Education and Engagement Officer with the New South Wales Department of Education. The killer boomerang is a useful tool and weapon and is shaped like a number seven with a long blade and a short blade. I am going to share a story about the killer boomerang and how we can use this shape to resolve tension or conflict and bring new learning and understanding. (You can find this and other stories in a resource prepared for educators: NSW Department of Education, 2012.)

At the start of any learning there is a problem or issue, something you are trying to fix, learn or try, something that we can have a conversation about. The next stage is the discord or conflict. You might have one idea about what is important and yet someone else has a different idea of what they think is important. Conflict gives you the opportunity to build trust through conversation. This leads to the climax, where both parties understand what is to be achieved. Resolution is what we have learnt about ourselves and the other person. Resolution leads to the learning or the new life, embedded within us forever (see Figure 4.1).

Let us think of these processes in an everyday scenario, like the Christmas Day when I receive my first bike. The problem is I do not know how to ride a bike. The conflict is that Dad thinks it is time for me to learn how to ride a bike. But I am not so sure that I want to ride a bike. There are lots of thoughts and misconceptions about what could happen … I will not be able to learn all the skills to ride a bike and I will fall off and hurt myself! There need to be lots of conversations that happen to give reassurance when helping a child learn how to ride a bike. You need to have conversations to build trust. Within the conflict comes the opportunity to build trust. Then we come to the climax. There are lots of things to riding a bike. You need co-ordination, balance, to know how to steer and pedal simultaneously, and to learn how to stop. Dad says, ‘By George, I think she’s got it’ and I know why Dad wanted me to get on the bike because this is fun and I am going to be a great bike rider. The resolution is the new learning and new life I can have, now I know how to ride a bike. I will never go back to not knowing how to ride a bike; that learning is embedded within me forever.

​My journey to CLR

My name is Emma Webster. I am a non-Aboriginal woman living on Wiradjuri Country in Dubbo, western New South Wales. Until 2014 I had only undertaken research using Western approaches. Both my training and my workplace valued these ‘evidence-based’ approaches.

An important moment in my journey began when listening to a doctoral candidate present her thesis about decolonising research methods (Sherwood, 2010). Her argument was that the very process of doing research was of itself colonising in that the axiology (values), ontology (existence), epistemology (knowledge) and methodology (practice) were all at odds with Aboriginal peoples and culture. This was a concept I could not get out of my head as it brought to light a problem with how I had practised research.

I mentally checked the research I had been involved in previously. In contrast with Aboriginal values, I had analysed data focused only on identifying deficits (Jeuken & Douglas, 1997). I had undertaken research where Aboriginal people were absent from any consideration, but in hindsight could have benefited from the research (Fitzgerald, Bunde-Birouste & Webster, 2009; Liddle et al., 2008; Liddle et al., 2007; Malek, McLean & Webster, 2007; Webster, Thomas, Ong & Cutler, 2011). While I had discussions with Aboriginal Elders and community members, this was rarely focused on building relationships as a foundation for research collaboration. Also rare was any evidence of influence on methodology or methods from either discussion with Aboriginal people or published literature on Indigenous approaches.

Not to excuse my own actions, I also recognised the influence of working in a professional discipline (public health and medicine) where historically we have done things for people and to people rather than with people (Rawlings & McDermott, this volume; Riley, this volume). Similarly, my employers had also privileged Western empirical knowledge and ways of operating over Indigenous knowledges and Indigenous ways of operating (Welsh & Burgess, this volume). These beliefs have led to health services and research actions undertaken in the name of public health and medicine which have had detrimental effects for Aboriginal people (Riley, this volume). A local example of public health action from the late 1960s was the forced moving of Aboriginal families from government reserves to live in town. The government reserve was located on traditional homelands about ten kilometres from town. Healthy cultural foods (such as kangaroo, emu and fish) were present in abundance and strong social and cultural connections existed between family groups. Living in town provided housing with sanitation and came with the instant burden of owing money for rent, no access to healthy food, and loss of social capital and spiritual connection to the land. An example from medicine is the primacy of Western birthing practices (requiring all women to birth in a hospital where anaesthetists, obstetricians and gynaecologists are available) imposed on Aboriginal women, forcing them to birth away from traditional homelands and in the absence of culturally significant practices.

These reflections led me to consider the following questions. How might I have approached and done research differently? How would this have influenced the results? Would the Aboriginal community have been better served if research was done this way? Would the findings have resulted in more useful outcomes? Would the results have been as influential within the organisation? I felt this conflict or tension about my own research, and I started to observe the same discord when I read and heard about the research others were doing. I wondered if it were possible, as a non-Aboriginal researcher, to undertake Indigenous-focused research and by applying decolonising methods to meet the requirements of both Aboriginal communities and my employers.

An opportunity arose to work with Aboriginal colleagues on a research study prescribed by our organisations. I could bring expertise on the Western way to do research, but needed conversations with those who have cultural knowledge to challenge the usual way to proceed and how to interpret data. Asking Aboriginal co-researchers ‘Who else should we be talking to?’ invited new voices to the conversation and privileged cultural knowledge. When cultural advice challenges the methodological approach you usually take, this is exactly the moment where your deliberate decisions act to disrupt the Western paradigm and decolonise your research (Riley, this volume). These are the moments of conflict which build trust. These conversations brought us to a common understanding or climax and the resolution was to approach research in a new way. Details about the research have been reported elsewhere (Webster, Johnson, Kemp et al., 2017) as have the specific tensions between Western and Aboriginal approaches that arose in applying a decolonising lens (Webster, Johnson, Johnson et al., 2017).

The research resulted in the usual contributions to academia such as conference papers and publications. In addition, co-researcher Aboriginal health practitioners developed research skills which helped later evaluation of projects in their broader work team. I consider these results, as they were expected, rather than new learning, which was unexpected.

The new learning for me included seeing how much participants enjoyed the focus groups. So much so that this led to the establishment of a monthly Aboriginal chronic disease support group. I had run many focus groups previously, but never one that people wanted to come to every month! The chronic disease support group strengthened long-term social relationships and provided a safe place for community and clinicians to come together to learn from each other. Keeping Aboriginal community leaders informed on the progress of the research kept the focus on community benefits. When sharing what I thought would be our final progress report, these leaders told us this was just the beginning and provided instruction as to the topic and the nature of the next piece of work, including volunteers to assist. This was when the relationship changed to community-led. While this had not been the original intention, sufficient trust had been established by applying decolonising methodology to change the relationship and give the community confidence that there was tangible benefit in research and that their values were respected and their voice was heard. A subsequent project prepared a teaching resource for students studying medicine, nursing and health sciences to learn how to yarn (a communication style which privileges Aboriginal processes) to enhance future communication in healthcare settings. Medical students now host the Aboriginal community annually for a meal around the campfire to build relationships and yarn. Aboriginal community members also regularly suggest guest speakers, share cultural knowledge in tutorials or invite students to community events as a direct result of this community-led approach.

This is my new journey, or new life, embedded within me forever. I still apply Western research approaches, but I prefer to look for opportunities to apply decolonising methodology and respond to community suggestions which facilitate CLR and projects.

​Axiology, ontology, epistemology and methodology … does it matter which comes first?

We all hold certain values and beliefs. This is not obvious to us when all the people we know and deal with hold the same values and beliefs. But when these differ, whether it is in education or health or research, there is a dissonance that can be difficult to reconcile.

When preparing a research project in the Western tradition we would usually start with intellectual processes (shown in Figure 4.2). We would start by defining the research question, considering what others who have studied this topic have found and what the ‘gap’ in the knowledge is. We would then follow this with operational processes. How can we find out the answer? What data needs to be collected? How do we collect it? What methods are needed to analyse the data? Once we have thoroughly thought through our research, we then consider the ethical implications and whether what we are planning to study meets the values of our society. When the research is complete, we consider how the research might be translated to others to change their knowledge or influence the way they work (relational processes).

The order of our progress prioritises these intellectual and operational processes over the ethical and relational processes. This has a profound influence on how research is conceptualised and undertaken.

Taking an Aboriginal approach to designing and undertaking research would start with consideration of ethical and relational processes first (shown in Figure 4.3). We would start by learning about local cultural protocols we need to follow to undertake the research in a way that is consistent with a specific community’s values and beliefs. We would consider how the Aboriginal community would benefit from this research. Questions to follow this would include: Who should we be talking to? How will decisions be made? What will our responsibilities be as knowledge holders at the completion of the research? Which conversations do we need to have? We would then consider the research question and operational processes relating to what will constitute data and how we will analyse and interpret this data. These questions might include: Who is the keeper of the knowledge we should study? What counts as knowledge? What is our research question? What will constitute data? Who will analyse the data and how will data be interpreted? Placing ethical and relational processes ahead of intellectual and operational processes orientates the researcher to values and beliefs of the community and ensures these shape and plan the subsequent research.

We can see in these examples just how different the same research conducted by the same research team might be if the processes are re-ordered. It is also much clearer to see how the very process of doing research can be colonising, even when undertaken by well-meaning and well-trained researchers. If we come back to the need for community to have or share power in setting research priorities and undertaking CLR, placing ethical and relational processes ahead of intellectual and operational processes provides a practical framework to apply Aboriginal processes when working with Aboriginal people.

Considering Aboriginal processes to engage with Aboriginal knowledges and guide work with Aboriginal people is documented in 8 ways Aboriginal pedagogy (NSW Department of Education, 2019; NSW Department of Education, 2012; Yunkaporta, 2009). There are also many excellent guides that detail the steps researchers should undertake in their work with Aboriginal communities to produce meaningful research (Gwynn et al., 2015; Laycock, Walker, Harrison & Brands, 2009, 2011; National Health and Medical Research Council, 2018a, 2018b; Riley, this volume; Welsh & Burgess, this volume). All outline the importance of building relationships and trust with communities prior to developing research questions or undertaking research. The development of relationships between academics and communities takes time and genuine commitment, and is not without risk to both parties as funding of proposed research is never guaranteed (Robinson et al., this volume).

​The returning boomerang and the cultural interface

The returning boomerang can provide us with a way to see the process of different perspectives coming together. The returning boomerang has two blades of equal length. Returning boomerangs are specially flighted to ensure that when they are thrown correctly, they return to the thrower. Returning to the thrower is their specific purpose. To reach the apex of the returning boomerang, you must travel exactly the same distance along each blade. The metaphor of throwing the boomerang and having it return to you could also relate to throwing respect or goodness out and having it come back to you.

We will use the returning boomerang shape to represent when two perspectives are very different, and where there is low knowledge from the holders of each perspective (see Figure 4.4). In our case, the ends of each blade are Aboriginal and Western perspectives on research and the distance between these ends represents the difference or ‘gap’ between these perspectives. To learn about the other perspective, we first must start with a conversation. If we do not have a conversation we will never get to the next level of understanding. Each conversation increases our knowledge of the alternative perspective and takes us a step closer to the apex. As our knowledge of Aboriginal and Western perspectives increases over many conversations, a relationship is built. Further conversations build on the relationship and it becomes a partnership (NSW Department of Education, 2012). The apex of the boomerang is where Aboriginal and Western knowledges come together in what Nakata would describe as the cultural interface (Nakata, 2007). This is a contested space, neither Aboriginal nor Western. This is the place where true, honest, purposeful partnerships exist, where different systems of knowledge find common ground and where innovation can occur. If we do not achieve that honest, purposeful partnership, then we are not in it for the long run and we are not going to be successful.

Using the metaphor or story of the returning boomerang helps prioritise ethical and relational processes by encouraging conversations to increase knowledge of each other’s perspective. The work of sharing and listening must be done equally by each party to keep balance in the returning boomerang. Both sides must remain equal so that the returning boomerang delivers on the specific purpose of the partnership.

When you are explicit about your values and beliefs you can make deliberate decisions about how you will proceed with your research by defining what is important. Sometimes this will be to privilege one approach over another (privilege an Aboriginal approach over a Western one or vice versa), or you might try a pluralist approach where you bring the ‘two worlds’ together at the cultural interface. If you are not explicit about your values and beliefs, these decisions are still made, but they are largely unconscious and hide the perspective you are privileging.

​What is needed for CLR to really flourish?

We would like to conclude this chapter with a vision for the future of CLR. We imagine Aboriginal communities initiating contact and working in partnership with Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal researchers at the cultural interface. Aboriginal communities and researchers would be supported by a grant system which funded their research in two stages.

The first stage would fund ethical and relational processes and would not be limited to a topic (such as cancer or dementia) and would allow time to assemble the right team of community members and researchers to build relationships and determine a mutually agreed direction for research (Welsh & Burgess, this volume). The funding parameters would ensure community members and Elders were remunerated for their cultural knowledge in a way that fairly represented their expertise and experience (see Flexner, this volume, for discussion of the limits of research to be decolonised when wealth differentials are not properly regarded). Likewise, data sovereignty, intellectual property and copyright would be negotiated in a way that is fair to all parties.

The second stage of the grant would look more like the grants we are familiar with, except co-design principles underpin the building of research questions, data collection instruments and data collection (Rawlings & McDermott, this volume) and collective analysis and interpretation (McMahon & McKnight, this volume).

Progress reports to funders would be done in person, with Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal representatives from the funding body coming to visit the community-led team to hear about the conversations they have had and the mutual learning that has taken place. Dissemination would be funded to include hosting other Aboriginal communities and researchers to share both the process and the outcomes of the research. Research impact would be measured by the community benefits of the research alongside benefits to individual researchers. A further measure of research impact might be community recommendation of researchers to other communities.

Grant applications for CLR would start with a joint verbal expression of interest by community and researchers to the fund holder resulting in some applicants being invited to submit a written application. The assessment panel would consist of Aboriginal community members and Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal researchers, and would prioritise applications based on the confidence that ethical and relational processes would be followed to establish true, honest, purposeful partnerships. Then CLR would really flourish!

​A non-Aboriginal voice as co-author of a chapter on Aboriginal perspectives

As a non-Aboriginal woman, it follows accepted protocol for me to explain how I have come to co-author a chapter on Aboriginal perspectives and processes for community leadership in research. My voice is important in this story because there are other non-Aboriginal people who would like to be more effective in ensuring fairer health and education outcomes for First Nations people … and I hope there always will be. Sometimes non-Aboriginal people do not know how to start, or proceed, or are concerned that any mistake they make will make the situation worse. Hearing about my journey is intended as encouragement. It shows a way (not the way) that relationships can be built and good quality research can be done in true partnership with Aboriginal people. You are encouraged to make your own journey.

I have benefitted from walking alongside my Aboriginal friends and colleagues, learning new and collaborative ways of doing research. As my own journey continues, I am working on identifying my own values and beliefs and learning more about ethical and relational processes. One of those ethical processes is relational responsibility. As I hold knowledge of CLR, I now have a responsibility to share this knowledge with others. Contributing to this chapter has provided one avenue to fulfil this responsibility.

​Conclusion

In this chapter you have been introduced to Aboriginal processes and how following these processes brings integrity to CLR. Undertaking ethical and relational processes first acts as an orientation to the community and must be embarked upon before intellectual or operational processes of research occur. The returning boomerang provides a framework to start the conversations that build meaningful, purposeful partnerships. Following these cultural protocols positions you to share, learn and create contested space at the cultural interface for new understandings to be generated. The contested space can be a place of tension or conflict, occurring when you challenge your own values, beliefs, knowledges and practices when learning the perspectives of others. The killer boomerang story shows that trust is built through conflict and that learning is not just bringing new facts to light, but a new way of doing things and a new life. Stepping out of your usual way of practising research might create conflict, but it is also creating an opportunity to build trust and improve the quality of research.

​References