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Research Ethics in Australia: A Story0

 

Have you ever needed to find a history of human research ethics, whether for personal study or for use in professional development work with human research ethics committee members or researchers?

Motivated perhaps by George Santayana’s often paraphrased ‘those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it’, we at AHRECS have often needed to refer to the history of the emergence of ethics in human research but have found repeatedly that the readily available histories focus on international, European and (predominantly) United States events. Conventionally, they begin in the 18th century and recount a litany of unethical research and, apparently consequential, increases in regulation, whether in the form of revised and strengthened guidelines, additional review processes or even legislation.

A typical pattern is to begin with Edward Jenner’s smallpox work in the late 18th century, Claude Bernard’s early 19th-century cautions about avoiding harm, Walter Reid’s yellow fever study in Havana in the early 1900s, the start of the Tuskegee syphilis study in the early 1930s, the Nuremberg experiments and the Code (and the mere lip-service paid to it in the US Army’s atomic energy studies in the 1950s) and, sometimes, the Japanese Unit 731 biological and chemical warfare studies in the 1940s. Then, in the 1960s, Henry Beecher’s New England Journal of Medicine article, Maurice Papworth’s human guinea pigs article and book, what Martin Tolich referred to as the ‘unholy trinity’ of Stanley Milgram’s authority study, Laud Humphrey’s tearoom trade study and Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford prison experiment, and the Declaration of Helsinki.  Then the 1970s brings disclosure and cessation of the Tuskegee syphilis study, the US National Research Act, the first common rule regulations, the President’s Commission and the Belmont Report.  Sentinel events in the 1990s include the Pfizer Trovan study in Nigeria, the clinical trial deaths of Jesse Gelsinger and, since 2000, the death of Ellen Roche, the Northwick Park TGN 1412 study and the disclosure of the Guatemalan sexually transmitted disease studies, and controversy over Napoleon Chagnon’s Amazon bioprospecting and the US military’s Human Terrain System.  There are of course other US and international events that could be added, but, in our experience the ones mentioned tend to recur most.

There are a number of difficulties with this ‘schooled by scandal’ history. First, the implicit (and simplistic) assumption of causality between examples of unethical (as seen with the benefit of hindsight) research and the subsequent tightening of regulations, guidelines or standards. Second, the unrepresentative importance accorded to the “scandals” can conceal the fact that most human research at the time was ethically acceptable.  Nonetheless, we accept that the so-called scandals are important at least in the fact that they reveal points of time at which the ethical and social acceptability of prevailing practices in human research was being questioned from new perspectives whose sources are historically and socially complex.  Third, the assumption that regulations have evolved and that all changes in regulation have benefited both research and research participants. Finally, the most important difficulty is that the history is simply not representative of our part of the world.

Australia has its own story to tell.  It is likely that this story has been influenced at identifiable points by events in other parts of the world but it is equally important to recognise that those influences find an Australian expression. We at AHRECS think that we do need to know – and tell – our own story.

An Australian account could include

Date Event Source Material/urls
1920s and 1930s early physiological research conducted in South Australia with Aboriginal men
1930s to the 1950s vaccine studies on children in orphanages in Queensland and Victoria
1950s to the 1970s secret strontium 90 pathology studies of bones
1950s atomic energy experiments at Maralinga
1950s early confrontation between Aboriginal mission administrators and researchers at Haast’s Bluff
1966 the first statement on human experimentation from the NHMRC (on which the influence of the 1964 Declaration of Helsinki is likely)
1970s repetition of Stanley Milgram’s authority study at Latrobe University
1976 to 1999 ongoing revision of and additions to the statement on human experimentation
1986 the confrontational conference on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander health research in Alice Springs
1991 NHMRC Interim guidelines on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander health research
1987 development by the Australian Research Council of a discussion paper on human research ethics
1992 radical revision of ethical review and approval of clinical trials
1994 to 1996 ministerial review of human research ethics system
1997-99 development the first National Statement, including joint working party of ARC, UA & scholarly academies
2002-03 guidelines on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander research from the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies in and from the NHMRC
2002 defamation litigation about a Sydney doctor’s clinical trial approval and conduct practices
2006 public disclosure of the Latrobe University lifestyle study
2006 development of a national approach to shared ethical review
2007 revision of the National Statement
2007 to date rolling revision of the National Statement
2007 public controversy about a study entitled ‘laughing at disabled’
2013 the Brisbane bus driver racial discrimination study

Accordingly, there is, in our view sufficient material from Australia to constitute a local, well documented story that is as valuable for study and professional development purposes as any of the conventional international and American accounts.

However, we are aware that stories of this kind are rarely complete. Accordingly, with this article, we are commencing the Research Ethics in Australia: A Story Project as a process of developing a more comprehensive Australian account which we propose to make available to AHRECS subscribers in formats that can be readily deployed for presentations or study resources.

A next step in that process is to invite our readers to add events that will fill out that history.  Please send us at australianstoryproject@ahrecs.com any publicly available resources, documented anecdotes or other material that can be used to fill out the emerging story.  The tabular format in which we have listed Australian events would be a suitable form in which to do this, accordingly please provide:

  1. Dates
  2. A description of the event/episode
  3. Sources, references, urls,
  4. Any multimedia material (images, video or audio files…) that might be used for teaching or presentations
  5. First-hand accounts if you were part of the story and are free to share that account#.

# If you are free, legally and ethically, to do so, let us know if you have any personal accounts of any item.  Don’t send us the account yet, we’ll seek ethics approval before asking you about your experience.

We would especially welcome accounts of the achievements of ethical human research in Australia.  This could address the second difficulty, referred to above, with typical histories and inform a balanced and fairer Australian story of human research ethics

A final version will be in the form of a resource, suitable for presentation, supported with links to the sources of the events and accompanied by notes and advice on its use.  Consistent with our mission, we firmly encourage the use of these past events in a constructive manner – how knowledge and understanding of them can inform better design, review and conduct of human research.

As you will be aware, we are delighted to have New Zealand colleagues among our consultants and know that that country has its own human research ethics story.  Indeed, our colleagues, Martin Tolich and Barry Smith, have started telling the history of New Zealand research ethics. We are interested in developing a parallel New Zealand account and will invite contributions to this as well later on.

Our proposed final resource will include both narrative and presentation formats that embed links to source materials about events, procedures or documents. We will offer guidance about using the resource constructively, consistent with AHRECS’ mission, so that the underlying message is how to design, review and conduct human research well.

Contributor
Prof. Colin Thomson
Senior Consultant, AHRECS
AHRECS profile | colin.thomson@ahrecs.com

This post may be cited as:
Thomson C. (30 July 2018) Research Ethics in Australia: A Story. Research Ethics Monthly. Retrieved from: https://ahrecs.com/human-research-ethics/research-ethics-in-australia-a-story

We invite debate on issues raised by items we publish. However, we will only publish debate about the issues that the items raise and expect that all contributors model ethical and respectful practice.

The complex art of benefit-sharing0

 

In community-based participatory action programs (programs which have a research component but which are also focussed on community development and empowerment), it might be possible to identify a link between a research project and a benefit to the participating community. Over and above conducting the study, in research on domestic violence, studies have provided emotional and practical support for victims, offering information about, and organizing access to, formal and informal services, providing feedback to the study community and relevant agencies, and supporting or engaging in advocacy on behalf of abused (Usdin et al. 2000). Work on victims of state violence has also advocated for broader political change (Stanley 2012).

However, in other circumstances it may be far more likely that participants may contribute to research but gain very little direct or even no benefit from it. The lack of reciprocity may be particularly problematic if participants are drawn from vulnerable groups.

For example, members of poorer communities have a right to feel aggrieved if research undertaken in their communities is only likely to be of benefit to wealthier societies. This is most obviously the case where multinational pharmaceutical corporations trial drugs or procedures in the Global South that are in the end likely to be priced out of the reach of participant communities or which were never relevant to their needs. Not surprisingly, therefore, the concept of benefit-sharing has been most widely developed in discussions of health and genetic research.

In response, international agreements and statements related to biomedical research such as the Declaration of Helsinki (from 2000 onwards) and non-human genetic and bioprospecting research such as the legally-binding Convention on Biological Diversity (1992), formalised in the Nagoya Protocol (Convention on Biological Diversity, 2010), instituted obligations relating to benefit-sharing for projects that fell within their jurisdiction. These agreements recognised that:

Those who contribute to developments in science and technology ought to share in the benefits, so if those benefits are not shared with the contributors to scientific advancement, that advancement is exploitative. (Arnason and Schroeder, 2013, p. 21)

As a result, the Nagoya Protocol pointed to the principle that research projects should offer benefits to participants. Non-financial benefits might include: sharing research results; collaboration, cooperation and contribution in research and development programmes, education and training; institutional capacity-building; contributions to the local economy; research directed towards priority needs of the participating community; institutional and professional relationships that can arise from an access and benefit-sharing agreement and subsequent collaborative activities; livelihood security benefits; and, social recognition. It is easy to imagine how such benefits, in the context of biomedical research, can be applied to social research; or, at least, it would be if social researchers were funded at the same level as biomedical researchers.

Unfortunately, the art of benefit-sharing has proved to be complex.

First, it might not be straightforward to identify what constitutes a benefit, particularly at the beginning of a researcher’s engagement with a new community. In her recent critique of transnational Feminist researchers, Rajan (2018) portrayed some external attempts at intervening in support of women’s rights in the Global South as ‘unfairly patronizing, or alternatively… ill-advised and characterized by a lack of sufficient knowledge of local context and concerns’ (p.271).

Second, it may not always be easy to work out what a particular community might regard as a fair way of sharing benefits. Even those projects that have sought to implement formal benefit-sharing arrangements have struggled to achieve a just and equitable distribution of benefits. For example, there is evidence that women have been marginalized in the negotiation and implementation of benefit-sharing arrangements, despite (and indeed because of) their additional susceptibility to exploitation within vulnerable communities. In addition, it is possible that some benefits aimed at individual participants might undermine commitments to respond to injustice at a macro-level and might even cause intra-community conflict. For instance, providing a participant family with additional food in a village where food is scarce may cause resentment among neighbours.

Third, some disciplines are less likely than others to generate tangible benefits and, even if they can, researchers may not be able to assure that the intended benefits of a research project will flow to participants. They may be particularly powerless in the face of powerful institutions whose job it is to restrict the freedom of participants. Zion et al. (2010), for example, argued that researchers seeking to work on projects on self-harm by asylum seekers funded by the Australian Commonwealth government were likely to be compromised. As asylum seekers are subjected to indefinite mandatory detention in Australia, Zion and her colleagues concluded that even projects aimed at improving the mental wellbeing of detainees risk legitimizing a detention regime that inevitably breached human rights.

Finally, acceptance of the importance of benefit-sharing arrangements is not universal. In 2008, the United States effectively opted out of the provisions of the Declaration of Helsinki that relate to ensuring that research participants must be allowed access to tested clinical interventions that were found to be successful and that research in low and lower middle-income countries must be designed to benefit local communities. Even before that time, there was little evidence that Institutional Review Boards in the US were taking the requirement seriously (Macklin, 2004).

So, benefit-sharing offers a way of directing both the outcomes and the process of research towards the pursuit of global and social justice. Unfortunately, a broader range of disciplines need to do more to develop and share strategies of benefit-sharing before we can have confidence that it has found a place in across our research programs.

Acknowledgements:

This article further develops an argument that will appear in Israel, M. & Fozdar, F. (in press) The ethics of the study of ‘Social Problems’ . In Treviño, J. & Marvasti, A. (eds) Researching Social Problems. New York: Routledge.

Bibliography

Arnason, G. and Schroeder, D. (2013) Exploring Central Philosophical Concepts in Benefit Sharing: Vulnerability, Exploitation and Undue Inducement. In Schroeder, D. and Lucas, J.C. (eds.) Benefit Sharing: From Biodiversity to Human Genetics. Springer. pp.9-31

Convention on Biological Diversity (2010) Nagoya Protocol on Access to Genetic Resources and the Fair and Equitable Sharing of Benefits Arising from their Utilization to the Convention on Biological Diversity. http://www.cbd.int/abs/doc/protocol/nagoya-protocol-en.pdf

Macklin, R. (2004) Double Standards in Medical Research in Developing Countries. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Rajan, H. (2018) ‘The Ethics of Transnational Feminist Research and Activism: An Argument for a More Comprehensive View’, Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 43(2): 269-300.

Stanley, E. (2012) ‘Interviewing Victims of State Violence’ in Gadd, D., Karstedt, S. and Messner, S.F. (eds) The Sage Handbook of Criminological Research Methods. Sage: London. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.4135/9781446268285.n15

Usdin, S., Christfides, N., Malepe, L. and Aadielah, M. (2000) ‘The value of advocacy in promoting social change: implementing the new Domestic Violence Act in South Africa’, Reproductive Health Matters, 8(16): 55–65.

Zion, D., Briskman L. and Loff, B. (2010) ‘Returning to History: The Ethics of Researching Asylum Seeker Health in Australia’, The American Journal of Bioethics, 10(2): 48-56. DOI: 10.1080/15265160903469310

Contributor
Prof. Mark Israel
Senior consultant AHRECS – AHRECS Profile | mark.israel@ahrecs.com

This post may be cited as:
Israel M. (24 July 2018) The complex art of benefit-sharing. Research Ethics Monthly. Retrieved from: https://ahrecs.com/human-research-ethics/the-complex-art-of-benefit-sharing

We invite debate on issues raised by items we publish. However, we will only publish debate about the issues that the items raise and expect that all contributors model ethical and respectful practice.

Stop centring Western academic ethics: deidentification in social science research – Anna Denejkina0

 

This blog will provide a discussion of issues present in deidentifying marginalised research participants, or research participants who request to be identified, in the publication of qualitative research. As my research is mixed-method (quantitative and multi-method qualitative) it included several data collection techniques and analyses. For this discussion, I will specifically focus on the face-to-face and Skype interviews I conducted with participants in Russia and the United States.

My PhD study investigates intergenerational transmission of combat-related trauma from parent to child, focusing on the Soviet–Afghan war, 1979–89. This research includes interviews with Soviet veterans and family members of veterans; it was these interviews that raised questions of participant erasure and agency. From 12 face-to-face and Skype interview participants, one participant requested complete deidentification; one requested that their real name not be used but their location and other identifying details remain; two participants requested that only their first names be used and their location and other identifying details remain; the eight remaining participants requested that they be fully identified, with some participants sending me photographs of them and their families for inclusion in research publications. Given the social and political sensitivity that persists in Eastern Europe around the discussion of the Soviet invasion into Afghanistan, I had to consider and discuss with participants that requested they be identified the issue of their safety.

My research participants are marginalized participants by virtue of the topic of my research, the Soviet–Afghan war, and the ongoing silencing treatment they’ve received during and following the war by the state:

To take just two examples: in the hope of obscuring the true impact of the war, some local authorities refused to allow special areas in cemeteries to be set apart for the graves of soldiers killed in Afghanistan; while others forbade the cause and place of death to be stated on gravestones or memorial shields. (Aleksievich, Whitby & Whitby 1992, p.5–6)

Given academic broad-stroke standards of deidentifying research participants, we must review the ethics of this practice as it can promote and perpetuate erasure of marginalised participants and the silencing of their voices. Some textbooks on the topic of ethics in the social sciences approach anonymity and deidentification of participants from the angle that anonymity is part of the basic expectations of a research participant, without elaborating that anonymity is not always desirable nor ethical (see for example Ransome 2013), essentially replicating the medical model of human research ethics developed for the regulation of biomedical research in the United States (Dingwall 2016, p.25). Such an approach does not address the issues of presenting anonymity as a status-quo in social research, and makes a sweeping – and a Western academic – generalisation that anonymity is one of the vital assurances researchers must give to their participants to keep within their duty of care (that is, that researchers have at least some obligation to care for their research participants).

This approach to research ethics negates participant agency, particularly those participants that request they be identified in research. Furthermore, forced anonymity can be an act of disrespecting participants (Mattingly 2005, p.455–456) who may have already experienced invisibility and who are then further erased through anonymity by researchers (Scarth & Schafer 2016, p.86); for example, “in some Australian and, in particular, some Indigenous cultures, failing to name sources is both a mark of disrespect and a sign of poor research practice” (Israel, Allen & Thomson 2016, p.296).

As researchers, we must also question if presenting this approach as a vital tenet of social research can become a damaging rule-of-thumb for new researchers who might, therefore, not question the potential undermining of participant agency, and use deidentification unethically as a sweeping regulation within their research without consideration for the individual situations of their research participants. This is part of the issue created by applying a medical model of ethics assessment processes to the social sciences, in which the prevailing interpretation is that deidentification is also required within social research, whereas the reality is that specific agreements between the researcher and the research participant must be honoured.

The ethical dilemma, therefore is: can researchers ethically deidentify participants at the expense of the participants’ agency, potentially perpetuating the historical and symbolic erasure of their voices and experiences? I argue that, based on research design and data collection methods, this decision-making process is an ‘ethics in practice’ and must be approached in context, individually for each study, and for each individual participant.
As scholars, we want to minimise or eradicate harm that might come to our participants through our research. While we think “in advance about how to protect those who are brought into the study” (Tolich 2016, p.30) this must be a continual process throughout our project, in which we “work out the meaning of what constitutes ethical research and human rights in a particular context” (Breckenridge, James & Jops 2016, p.169; also see Ntseane 2009). This is important to note, because protection does not only refer to participants but also to others connected to them. For example, the use of a real name at the request of a participant may expose their family member(s) who were not part of the research.

Consequentialist approaches to ethics suggest that “an action can be considered morally right or obligatory if it will produce the greater possible balance of good over evil” (Israel, 2015: 10; also see Reynolds, 1979). This is an approach we could take to issues around deidentification; however, this also means that researchers must know what is good or bad. In studies like mine, this would mean knowing (or making an attempt, or an assumption to know) what is good or bad for my research participants. This action is infantilising, and places the researcher above the research participant by making the final call ourselves, which is to remove participant agency – if we can assume participants are autonomous during the research consent process, we must also assume that they are autonomous in making decisions with respect to their identification (Said 2016, p.212). Additionally, this action may be culturally insensitive given that Western human research ethics committees follow Western cultural guidelines, centring the dominance of Western academia.

The ethical issues I faced during my PhD research highlight why researchers cannot take a sweeping approach to deidentification in qualitative research – not even for a single study. ‘Ethics in practice’ means that each participant’s situation is analysed individually, and issues around erasure, safety, and their agency weighed against each other to reach a conclusion. I propose that if this conclusion is at odds with the preference of the participant, that it must then be taken back to the participant for further discussion. Not implementing this aspect of ‘ethics in practice’ goes against social science ethics, that we must avoid doing long-term and systemic harm, both of which come through erasure and silencing. We must also remember that “any research project has the potential to further disenfranchise vulnerable groups” (Breckenridge, James & Jops 2016, p.169), and ignoring the wishes of participants regarding their identification due to a Western model of ethics can cause further damage to these groups.

References:
Aleksievich, S., Whitby, J. & Whitby, R. 1992, Zinky Boys: Soviet voices from a forgotten war, Chatto & Windus, London.

Breckenridge, J., James, K. & Jops, P. 2016, ‘Rights, relationship and reciprocity: Ethical research practice with refugee women from Burma and New Delhi, India’, in K. Nakray, M. Alston & K. Whittenbury (eds), Social Sciences Research Ethics for a Globalizing World: Interdisciplinary and Cross-Cultural Perspectives, Routledge, New York, pp. 167–186.

Dingwall, R. 2016, ‘The social costs of ethics regulation’, in W.C. van den Hoonaard & A. Hamilton (eds),The Ethics Rupture, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, pp. 25–42.

Israel, M., Allen, G. & Thomson, C. 2016, ‘Australian research ethics governance: Plotting the demise of the adversarial culture’, in W.C. van der Hoonaard & A. Hamilton (eds),The Ethics Rupture, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, pp. 285–216.

Mattingly, C. 2005, ‘Toward a vulnerable ethics of research practice’, Health: An Inderdisciplinary Journal for the Social Study of Health, Illness and Medicine, vol. 9, no. 4, pp. 453–471.

Ntseane, P.G. 2009, ‘The ethics of the researcher-subject relationship: Experiences from the field’, in D.M. Mertens & P.E. Ginsberg (eds), The Handbook of Social Research Ethics, 1st edn, Sage, Thousand Oaks, pp. 295–307.
Ransome, P. 2013, ‘Social research and professional codes of ethics’, Ethics and Values in Social Research, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke, pp. 24–53.

Said, D.G. 2016, ‘Transforming the lens of vulnerability: Human agency as an ethical consideration in research with refugees’, in K. Nakray, M. Alston & K. Whittenbury (eds),Social Sciences Research Ethics for a Globalizing World: Interdisciplinary and Cross-Cultural Perspectives, Routledge, New York, pp. 208–222.

Scarth, B. & Schafer, C. 2016, ‘Resilient Vulnerabilities: Bereaved Persons Discuss Their Experience of Participating in Thanatology Research’, in M. Tolich (ed.), Qualitative Ethics in Practice, Left Coast Press, Walnut Creek, CA, pp. 85–98.

‘Tolich, M. 2016, ‘Contemporary Ethical Dilemmas in Qualitative Research’, in M. Tolich (ed.), Qualitative Ethics in Practice, Left Coast Press, Walnut Creek, CA, pp. 25–32.

Statement of interest
No interests to declare.

Contributor
Anna Denejkina | Casual Academic and PhD  candidate in the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, researching intergenerational trauma transmission UTS | Staff profileAnna.Denejkina@uts.edu.au

This post may be cited as:
Denejkina A. (24 May 2018) Stop centring Western academic ethics: deidentification in social science research. Research Ethics Monthly. Retrieved from: https://ahrecs.com/human-research-ethics/stop-centring-western-academic-ethics-deidentification-in-social-science-research-anna-denejkina

Can Your HREC Benefit from Coaching?0

 

Atul Gawande, an American surgeon and researcher, sparked a debate in the medical community seven years ago with his New Yorker article Personal Best, in which he explored the benefits of coaching. The best athletes in the world, he reasoned, rather than sitting on their hard-earned laurels, employ coaches as a matter of course, to scrutinise and review their game, work on imperfections and amplify their strengths. He discovered that many elite musicians do, too. So why did other types of professionals not consider the advantages of coaching as an option for improving performance? Professionals, he concluded, are educated in a discipline, and then, their learning complete, sent out into the world to get on with it.

The situation and practice in New Zealand are quite different and warrant separate discussion. Martin Tolich and Barry Smith will write a separate post on this in a future edition.
Much the same, we at AHRECS have found, are many Human Research Ethics Committees. In Australia, members are engaged for their “relevant skills and/or expertise”, as required by para 5.1.28 of the National Statement for the Ethical Conduct of Human Research, but exactly what those are is not spelled out, and a lack of volunteers sometimes means institutions will settle for a person who merely falls within the membership criteria in para 5.1.30. While a wise recruiter of HREC members will raise questions about familiarity with ethical frameworks, and group decision-making dynamics, the National Statement does not mandate the possession of skills in either of these.
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It is to be hoped that a new HREC, and new HREC members, will receive an induction that covers both. Para 5.1.29 of the National Statement, after all, requires both the induction and the ongoing education of members. However, the most recent available NHMRC annual Report on the Activity of Human Research Ethics Committees and Certified Institutions(for 2016) indicates that fully one-third (33%) of HRECs do not provide new members with induction, and that over a quarter (27%) had provided none of their members with any training at all over the past year. Of the 77% of HRECS which reported that “at least one” member had received training during the year, it is not reported whether morethan one member has, leaving open the possibility that the figures are considerably worse. And from my own experience, some HRECs do not even provide that training themselves, but rely on diligent members to source and pay for their own.
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It is no wonder, therefore, that many HRECs struggle to reach a common understanding of the concepts in the National Statement, become bogged down in detail, or adopt a risk-averse adversarial culturethat stifles the progress of their institution’s research. They need a fresh set of eyes and an injection of new thinking that will not detract from their existing body of experience and expertise, but will challenge and build upon it.
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Gawande’s article provides trenchant examples of the benefits he has experienced as a surgeon from introducing coaching to his practice – beginning, simply, with engaging another experienced surgeon to observe and comment on his surgeries. He recently revisited the issue in his December 2017 TED Talk “Want to get great at something? Get a coach”. In this presentation Gawande shows compelling instances of the improvements coaching has brought to teams of health practitioners, not only in terms of their expertise but in their group culture and strategic problem-solving skills.
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There are a number of options for institutions seeking to support their HRECs through coaching.  Mainstream executive coaches may offer assistance in the areas of chairing and group decision-making.  More specialist research ethics expertise may be sourced from the HRECs of other institutions, or from previous Chairs.  The AHRECS team is committed to life-long learning and improvement, and we, too, offer practical, cost-effective coaching to facilitate real improvement for committees at any level of sophistication. Whatever solution you choose, significant value can be gained by having impartial, experienced experts observe your HREC in action, make practical and nuanced suggestions for improvement, and identify obstacles to best practice.  As a bonus, HRECs can also use coaching to meet the requirements of the National Statement for the continuing education of members.
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The world’s best professionals recognise the advantages that coaching can bring. HRECs can, and should, seek those benefits too.
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Contributor
Sarah Byrne, AHRECS senior consultant | Sarah’s AHRECS profilesarah.byrne@ahrecs.com

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This post may be cited as:
Byrne S. (22 May 2018) Can Your HREC Benefit from Coaching?. Research Ethics Monthly. Retrieved from: https://ahrecs.com/human-research-ethics/can-your-hrec-benefit-from-coaching

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