Tag: Transdisciplinary Research

How transdisciplinary research is like making gumbo

Debra Butler
PhD Student, School for the Environment

A photograph of gumbo soup.
Photo credit: Gumbo Brothers restaurant, New York City.

Transdisciplinary research is “issue driven”, participatory and collaborative. Transdisciplinary research requires the time and patience to build relationships of respect and trust, to thrive in conditions of  ambiguity and uncertainty, to value iterative process over product, to learn from “failure”, to appreciate silences and that which is not obvious, to stay curious, and to “know” that nothing of life should be wasted.

I was raised in the culture and traditions of the coastal south, a gumbo of indigenous Native, African, Spanish, French, Greek, Irish, Lebanese, Caribbean and Chinese traditions, a place where timeless homelands and memories of distant home places converged. One of the advantages of doing research in one’s own community is a rich, deep backgrounding in place and people. Transdisciplinary research requires the researcher to honor and be accountable to one’s own community, taking care and knowing that intimacy is both advantage and restraint.  Transdisciplinary research must privilege the rituals of everyday life and the lives of collaborators in the research process.

Read Associate Professor of Anthropology Rosalyn Negrón’s article, “What is transdisciplinarity and what does it have to do with social justice?”…

Food was part of every ritual of life–to nourish, to negotiate, to celebrate, to comfort. Food was gift and  gratitude. Growing up, almost everything we ate was locally grown or harvested from the Gulf. The Gulf is a rice culture, so most meals included bowls of rice or grits with rich spicy sauces or étouffée.

My family was/is serious about food, and when you are serious about food, even a simple meal turns into a party. Gumbo is a party. This story is about one of those rituals and why transdisciplinary research is like making gumbo.

The word “gumbo” is thought to be of African origin, ki ngombo (Bantu) for okra, brought by Africans to the Gulf coast. Other interpretations consider the word a corruption of kombo (Choctaw) for sassafras, which is ground into powder called filé. Okra or filé was the thickener in gumbo, a truly indigenous food with taste and texture dependent on what ingredients were available, whether the meal was “everyday”or celebratory, and how many folks had to be fed. There are as many kinds of gumbo as there are cooks on the Gulf Coast.

Like transdisciplinary research, there are certain important protocols that had to be understood and followed for a successful project.  According to local legend, oysters were safe to eat only in months with the letter “R” (September through April), period. Therefore, oysters were not an ingredient in warm weather gumbos. Instead, they were full of shrimp, crabs, chicken or sausage.  My grandfather fished with his brothers, so grandkids and cousins participated by crabbing on the bay. My grandmother, mother and aunts negotiated fresh shrimp prices from the boats docked at the waterfront. I moved along with this convoy of women, mostly listening, but occasionally called to select the plump little crustaceans by their color and briny smell.  I learned that that “browns” had more flavor and held up to spices and slow cooking…a “hands on” lit review!

In the warm, steamy magic of my Grandmother Ignacia’s kitchen, the ritual of gumbo was an “event”, especially when making winter gumbo during the cold weather seasons of Christmas, Mardi Gras and Lent. Winter gumbo was usually made with a richer stock and a roux (more on roux later). During Mardi Gras, and especially during Lent, gumbo was seafood only. During Lent, it was sacrilegious to even think about putting meat (sausage, game or chicken) in gumbo.

From the age of 8 or 9, I became the apprentice under my grandmother’s watchful eye and free-style methodology. Cooking was alchemy. It has its own sensibility, texture and music. She bought fresh file in tiny brown bags from her friend at St. Rose of Lima parish on Mon Lois Island.  She rubbed herbs between my palms…hold this over your nose, breathe…my brain coded “Sage”! Sassafras! Garlic!

I was the designated roux watcher, a position of dedication, honor and responsibility. Roux was made from good, plain flour and lard or Crisco in a heavy cast iron skillet. The roux was stirred constantly with a wooden spoon. You did not let the roux burn. The fat was melted on low heat before the flour was added, then the mixture was smoothed out and coaxed into a beautiful warm brown. There is no better smell than a good roux. I stirred, and stirred and stirred.

Again, like transdisciplinary research, the process is iterative. It is slow. It requires being “in the moment.” It calls for attention and care, the ability to absorb uncertainty and ambiguity, to watch and learn from community, to sometimes change direction, recalibrate and begin again.

Once, my cousin Denise became too involved in a comic book and let the roux burn. Poor Denise was was instantly expelled and banned from my grandmother’s kitchen. Her dishonor was more than a punishment for carelessness, it was a breach of my grandmother’s trust and a disrespect for the value, labor and commitment of preparing food. Denise was only allowed back when the magic was over and there nothing left but dirty dishes, pots and pans. My grandmother re-started another roux and dusted the flour from her apron. She handed me the wooden spoon. And, we began our research, again.

***

Day 1

Make the stock

In a large pot, add enough water to cover fish* or chicken or beef and celery, onions, bay leaves, garlic, red peppers.  Bring to a boil, then simmer for at least 2-3 hours. Cool. Remove meat & chop into small pieces. Strain stock. Discard skin and bones. Refrigerate stock and meat.

*Fish only for a seafood gumbo.

Day 2

Clean seafood. Check oysters and crabs for shell fragments. Refrigerate.

Chop celery, onions & garlic.  Add to stock. Add bay leaves. Re-heat.

Cut okra into ½ inch pieces. Set aside.

Make roux. Let cool to room temperature. (You can make the roux a day ahead of time. Save at room temperature in a glass container)

Add 2 cups of strained stock to roux to thin. Bring stock to boil. Add roux to stock at full boil. Cook at low boil 5 minutes. Add filé.  

Increase heat to full boil. Add seafood, oysters & okra, (meat from stock), and seasonings.

Stir. Turn heat OFF. Let gumbo rest for 20 minutes. Stir.

Remove bay leaves. Season to taste. Let the gumbo rest 1 hour.

Serve with hot white rice and heavily buttered crusty French bread & a cold beverage. Hot sauce on the side.

Thank the cook.

Special feature: What is transdisciplinarity and what does it have to do with social justice?

Rosalyn Negrón
Associate Professor of Anthropology, College of Liberal Arts and Core Faculty Member, TCCS

Editor’s note: Every few posts, we publish a “Special Feature” article exploring a topic that is particularly timely or in greater detail than usual. We are happy to share with you this post written by TCCS Core Faculty Member, Rosalyn Negrón.

An image of a Mandelbrot set

It may be helpful to think of disciplinary integration along a continuum.

Disciplinarity – or the application of a specific disciplinary lens, with little engagement with other disciplines – is at one end.

Next, we have multi-disciplinarity, in which multiple disciplines are brought to bear on an issue but do not commingle. Think of a patient who complains of chronic headaches and is examined by a neurologist, ear, nose, and throat (ENT) specialist, musculoskeletal specialist, and a psychologist. Each makes their diagnoses, but they are not in conversation with each other. Even if they do share information, they each adhere to the diagnoses and treatment plan that makes sense given their expertise, the conventions of their specialty, and habitual practice.

Next along the continuum we find interdisciplinarity, which is what most people think of when they think of integrating disciplines. A note on integration: Each discipline or field comprises concepts, theories, and methods that tend to logically fit together, forming a coherent set of ways of thinking and doing among its followers.

So, when we talk about integration among disciplines, it may involve the use of key concepts and conceptualizations from one discipline in the context of another discipline. Or it could involve borrowing a method developed within one discipline in research guided by the theoretical frameworks of another.

Typically, what we mean by interdisciplinarity is that disciplines are unpacked and their component parts are brought into conversation with each other: theories, concepts, and/or methods. In some cases, particularly in the context of collaborative research, interdisciplinary integration may involve bringing together the “whole” of a discipline in the sense that each participant brings a particular worldview shaped by their disciplinary upbringing.

Returning to the medical example, interdisciplinarity is what happens if the neurologist, ENT specialist, muscle doctor and psychologist meet to discuss the headache sufferer’s symptoms and treatment plan. The neurologist shares her concern that in addition to the headaches, the patient is having difficulty with hand-eye coordination. Noting this, the muscle doctor shares that the patient has multiple contracted muscles in the upper back, which may explain the headaches and the poor coordination. This all squares with the psychologist who attributes the symptoms to chronic stress. Concurring, the eye and ear doctor suggests massage in targeted areas of the face and neck. Together they develop an integrated treatment plan that includes massage, stress management exercises, and muscle relaxants.

Perhaps I got carried away with the analogy, but the point is that interdisciplinarity involves exchange, boundary-crossing, and unification of knowledge. Whether embarked on by a lone researcher or through a team process, interdisciplinarity demands translation skills and the ability to make connections between disparate ideas.

… [I]nterdisciplinarity involves exchange, boundary-crossing, and unification of knowledge. Whether embarked on by a lone researcher or through a team process, interdisciplinarity demands translation skills and the ability to make connections between disparate ideas.

All of these are key to a transdisciplinary research approach as well. But before moving too far ahead, it’s important to note that there is some debate about whether interdisciplinarity (ID) and transdisciplinarity (TD) are really different things.

In my own teaching, I do make a distinction between ID and TD that draws on what TD writers have identified as unique aspects of TD. I’ll describe a few of these aspects here.

First, on our continuum of disciplinary integration, TD is understood to be at the end of the spectrum where the highest levels of integration happen. Thus, a fully realized TD approach would result in the creation of new ideas, new modes of thinking, new concepts, and/or new methods. Again, this applies to TD work being done by a lone researcher or team research. TD, then, is thought to be transformative and transcendent. The level of integration is such that the knowledge produced goes beyond each of the disciplines.

The level of integration [in transdisciplinary research] is such that the knowledge produced goes beyond each of the disciplines.

Notice that in the ID (interdisciplinary) medical example, the psychologist continues to be a psychologist, the neurologist continues to be a neurologist, and so on. They are all still primarily oriented towards flesh and bones interventions, though the psychologist pushes them in the direction of centering stress as key to solving the patient’s problem. Together, the treatment approach offers a more holistic solution to the patient’s headaches, but they don’t come up with anything new that transcends each of their specialties.

In a TD approach, through a highly-engaged, and often lengthy process, the specialists would work to create a space where the boundaries between their specialties could give way to yield new insights about the patient’s condition – and maybe even transform how they view themselves as practitioners. They develop a patient model that goes beyond meat and bones, to consider spirit and community, for example.

The neurologist offers the latest science on how meditation helps to rewire the brain. Creativity piqued, the muscle doctor imagines the contracted muscles caused not just by stress, but as the outcomes of repetitive motions made habitual through a rushed and automated lifestyle. He likes the neurologist’s “rewiring” metaphor and suggests that muscles too can be rewired, of sorts, and muscle awareness developed. The psychologist ponders what a cognitive behavioral therapy might look like to help the patient change habitual movements of the body and the mind. They come to find that the word “patient” orients them towards a view of the person as a static, sick, organism. They decide that instead they will use the word “being”, because as a verb it reminds them that the headache sufferer is, like any person, in a constant state of change and with dynamic potentials for healing.

Um, ok, I admit, maybe referring to a patient as a “being” is a little strange. But my point is that such a conceptualization of the patient would offer a fundamentally different view and put specialists on a path towards a truly innovative treatment plan. Notice that this approach begins to come to terms with the immense complexity of the human individual.

I wrote earlier that there were a few aspects of TD that I would take up here. The first was that TD entails a high level of integration. Two other aspects evident in the TD medical example are what Patricia Leavy calls transcendence (going beyond disciplines) and emergence (developing new ways of thinking and doing). A fourth aspect is that through transcendence of disciplinary boundaries and developing new frameworks, TD practitioners can address problems or issues of “real-world concern.” Here the medical analogy breaks down a bit, but there is a way in which the movement from flesh/bone (medical) models to community/spirit models does serve to situate the problem (headache) within the context of the everyday “life-world”, as some transdisciplinarians like to call it.

Here is where we can shift to the question, what does TD have to do with social justice?

Briefly, the links between TD and social justice research work on at least two dimensions. First, TD research is problem or issue-centered and is particularly appropriate for addressing urgent and vexing problems.

Inequality is one such sprawling and intractable problem, and the solutions to various manifestations of inequality develop not just in academic and disciplinary chambers, but in relation to and engagement with real-world people and experiences.

Therefore, TD is not merely about integrating disciplinary perspectives but also about integrating views beyond the disciplines and the academy.

 

Students talking with each other in a classroom.
Students in “Transdisciplinary Research Methods” class work on a group project analyzing the trandisciplinarity of a research project.

TD engenders intense collaboration and collaboration is also at the heart of social justice work. This is a second dimension. Inherent to collaboration is the need to work across perspectives, agendas, expertise, and ethno-racial and cultural backgrounds.

What I suggest is that collaborative engagement does “double-duty” for social justice seekers. There is the interactive, participatory, collaborative problem-solving work. But there is also the internal work, the personal transformations that emerge through TD engagement. The transdisciplinary individual working towards social justice develops heightened abilities to bridge, to reconcile contradictions, to understand across difference, and to imagine new possibilities.