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Volume 9, No. 3. Special Issue:
“Doing Case Study Research in Organizations”
Guest Editors: Ann Langley and Isabelle Royer

� Attila Bruni 2006
Access as Trajectory:
Entering the Field in Organizational Ethnography,
M@n@gement, 9: 3, 129-144.

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Attila Bruni Università degli Studi di TrentoDipartimento di Sociologia e Ricerca Sociale
eMail: attila.bruni@soc.unitn.it

Access as Trajectory: Entering the Field
in Organizational Ethnography

Since ethnography has been recognized as a proper method for organizational analysis,
many textbooks and articles have acknowledged its characteristics and specificities and
sought to account for them. Curiously, many of these works have not considered (or
have explicitly avoided) one important issue concerning organizational ethnography,
namely the negotiation of access to the field. Drawing on a one-year organizational
ethnography on the production and reproduction of inequalities in accessing health ser-
vices in Italy, this paper focuses on the organizational and ethnographical dynamics
involved in accessing the field. In particular, it shows that the negotiation of access may
per se be an important moment of observation in that it reveals some of the principal
characteristics of the organizational processes that the ethnographer is about to study.
Moreover, drawing on ethnographic observations, the paper shows that there are no
substantial reasons for assuming that negotiating access to the field takes place in a
dimension unconnected with the actorsʼ everyday logics and practices of action. Access-
ing the field is thus framed as a trajectory, a never-ending process of engaging with mul-
tiple actors and organizational dynamics which can lead in different directions, depend-
ing on the ethnographerʼs ability to follow organizational processes and to demonstrate
his/her ability to take part in them.

INTRODUCTION

Since ethnography has been recognized as a proper method for orga-
nizational analysis, many textbooks and articles have acknowledged
its characteristics and specificities and sought to account for them.
Ethnographic rhetoric (Van Maanen, 1988), narrative genre (Jeffcut,
1994), the role of the researcher (Kunda, 1992; Van Maanen, 1995)
and the different (organizational and gender) identities that s/he can
perform and that are attributable to him/her (Bruni, 2006), are just
some of the major themes currently under debate. In addition, various
handbooks on organizational research or on qualitative sociology
describe techniques for observation, interviews, data recording, inter-
pretation of fieldnotes, and show how to write a research report.
Curiously, however, the issue of accessing the field often seems under-
represented or taken for granted in this debate. This is odd, considering
that gaining access to the organizational setting of interest is essential
for a study to begin. This may be related to the fact that, since the early
organizational ethnographies (Dalton, 1959), the ethnographerʼs pres-
ence has sometimes been covert or mingled with the role of consultant.

mailto:attila.bruni@soc.unitn.it


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Attila Bruni

This paper refers to an organizational ethnography on the organiza-
tional production and reproduction of inequalities in accessing health
services in Italy. It concentrates on the organizational (and ethno-
graphical) dynamics involved in accessing the field. In particular, it
shows that negotiation of access may be an important moment of
observation per se, in that it reveals some of the principal characteris-
tics of the organizational processes that the ethnographer is about to
study. Moreover, the paper draws on ethnographic observations to
argue that there is no substantial reason for assuming that negotiating
access to the field takes place in a dimension unconnected with the
actorsʼ everyday logics and practices of action. Accessing the field will
be framed as a trajectory, a never-ending process of engaging with
multiple actors and organizational dynamics; a process which begins
on entering the field, but which may lead in different directions,
depending on the ethnographerʼs ability to follow organizational pro-
cesses and participate in them.
The paper is organized as follows. The first section describes the
research aims, setting, and design. The second section presents the
ethnographic account of what happened on entering one of the services
observed. This will be used as a starting point for discussion of some of
the main issues debated in the literature on accessing the field in orga-
nizational ethnography. Finally, the conclusions underline some of the
practical and ethical implications raised by the story presented and by
the more general issue of access in organizational ethnography.

STUDYING INEQUALITIES REPRODUCTION
IN ACCESS TO HEALTH CARE SERVICES:
THE RESEARCH BACKGROUND

The accounts that I am about to present require a brief description of
the research aims, setting and design. The observations are drawn
from an ethnographic research study conducted in the city of Bologna
(Italy) in 2003-04 and centered on the organizational processes that
may generate or reproduce inequalities in access to healthcare ser-
vices (Bruni, Fasol and Gherardi, 2007). The research arose from the
local authorityʼs desire to map local best practices in access to health
services, with particular regard to how these practices facilitate access
for different categories of users.
Our intention was not to interpret inequalities as ascribed to individu-
als, but instead to emphasise their socially inscribed and embodied
component, consistent with the current interest among organization
scholars in the processual (Cooper and Law, 1995) and practical
(Gherardi, 2000) dimension. The view that the study of organization
amounts to the study of organizing practices is increasingly accredited
in the sociology of organizations (Fox, 2006; Gherardi, forthcoming);
and, in particular, from the study of gender as a practical and situated
activity (see for example Gender, Work and Organizationʼs special
issue on Theorizing Gender as Practice, 13: 6, 2006). I borrow the idea
that, like gender differences, inequalities also spring from relational



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Access as Trajectory: Entering the Field in Organizational Ethnography

processes comprised in the interactive and discursive practices of
everyday organizational life.

RESEARCH DESIGN: ZOOMING IN ON THE FIELD
AND PLOTTING THE MAP OF ACCESS POINTS

In the initial phase of research, I zoomed in on the field (Silverman,
2000) by focusing my observation on the Centro Unico di Prenotazione
(CUP), the central booking service in Italy for healthcare appointments.
From an organizational point of view, a CUP is the obligatory passage
point for anyone requiring healthcare, and it may generate specific tra-
jectories of access: waiting times for an appointment, point of delivery,
and the reference medical unit. However, as the operators themselves
pointed out to us, the CUPs handle access for users who have already
been selected to some extent. Use of a CUP requires enrolment in the
Healthcare Register and the issue of a doctorʼs prescription1, so that
the user has already in some way begun an access trajectory, which
leads him/her to the CUP.
In January 2004, I began to plot a map of access points to health ser-
vices (catering to unequal categories) in the province of Bologna. I
identified a service providing general medical examinations and basic
pharmaceutical treatment for illegal immigrants2; a surgery providing
general medical examinations and basic pharmaceutical treatment for
the indigent; a service for recently-immigrated women and children not
yet eligible for the National Health Service and providing gynaecologi-
cal and paediatric services, psychological counselling, and general
medical examinations.
After obtaining this first snapshot, on the basis of a similarity/difference
criterion, I decided to combine observation of dedicated points of
access with observation of ones that were instead universal: an acci-
dent and emergency department (still one of the most frequently used
points of access to healthcare services) and a health advisory bureau
(because of the close links of these facilities with the local communi-
ty). Then, as often happens when a flexible research design is used
(Cardano, 2003), the observation was extended to two other settings
which were not originally considered but acquired significance as the
fieldwork progressed.
Each service was observed for the duration of a working week in the
months between February and July 2004. The main observation
method was participant observation, together with the shadowing
(Sachs, 1993; Bruni, Gherardi and Poggio, 2004) of some operators
and ethnographic interviews carried out at the same time as the obser-
vation. My role as researcher was always announced to the operators,
but it was not always disclosed to the users, for two reasons. The first
was strictly connected with the research: because observation was
being made of organizational processes (not of the service users), it
was agreed with the service managers that it was not necessary to
inform the subjects about the researcherʼs presence. The second rea-
son was more pragmatic: it would have been impossible to inform
every single user without disrupting the workflow.

2. Under current Italian immigration law,
immigrants without stay permits are ineli-
gible for any form of health care except
so-called “lifesaving assistance”. Note,
however, that obtaining a stay permit in
Italy may take anything up to six months,
and also that there are various interpreta-
tions among clinicians of what constitutes
lifesaving assistance.

1. With some rare exceptions
(e.g. ophthalmology and basic dentistry).



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The research setting thus seemed a situation where access for obser-
vation had been negotiated and was almost an entitlement. The ser-
vices that I was about to enter all depended on the local health board
(i.e., the research commission), which had assured me that access
would be substantially unrestricted. The heads of the various services
had all been informed that a sociologist from the University of Trento,
engaged in a research project on access to healthcare services com-
missioned by the local health board, would contact them to arrange a
brief interview and request permission to observe their serviceʼs activ-
ities for a working week.
Around one month after the letters had been sent to the service heads,
however, many of them had not replied, and those few that had done
so had imposed (more or less explicitly) the condition that they must
first meet the researcher and discuss the form that his presence in the
organization would take. I therefore contacted all the service heads
personally: those who had replied in order to fix an appointment so that
we could get to know each other, and those who had not replied in
order to remind them of the letter sent by the regional administration.
The following section provides an account of what happened with one
of them.

NEGOTIATING ACCESS IN RESEARCH
ON ACCESS INEQUALITIES:
THE CASE OF COUS-COUS

Cous-Cous was founded in 1992 as an association of volunteer doc-
tors providing basic healthcare for illegal immigrants. It currently has a
staff of 30 people, divided between doctors and administrators.
The director had not replied to the letter from the regional administra-
tion, but it only took a telephone call from me to fix an interview and
establish the ground rules for my observation. The meeting took place
in the office that the director also used as a surgery, and on conclusion
of the interview, he raised no objection to my observing the serviceʼs
day-to-day work. He said that he would inform the personnel and only
asked me to go to the centre on the same day and present myself to
one of his colleagues, responsible for scheduling shifts for the person-
nel.

ENTERING COUS-COUS

When I arrive at 16:50 (the center opens at 17:00), there are already a
large number of people (around twenty) waiting in the corridor, some
of them sitting on a row of seats outside the surgery. I take in the
scene: a marked mix of ethnic groups (mainly East Europeans and
North Africans) and ages, and a wide variety of languages being spo-
ken. However, the atmosphere is subdued: people are talking in under-
tones and the only strident sound is the ringing of cell phones.
Stuck to the surgery door is a sheet of paper on which people write
their names. I knock on the surgery door. It is opened by what appears



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to be a youth (a doctor, in fact, but he looks like a youth to me3), who
is immediately welcoming when he hears my name: «Of course, I got
the email4, come in!».
Never before have I begun ethnographic observation with such a wel-
come, but the surprise is not long in coming: Giuseppe (for this is the
doctorʼs name) wants me to work! He explains that he is on his own
(the secretary is absent and the other doctor is late), so if I can help
with the administrative part, he can get started with the medical exam-
inations. I am pleased to lend a hand, but I do not want to be a hin-
drance. However, Giuseppeʼs tone indicates that he is ordering rather
than asking me to help. In fact, as I look around in some bewilderment,
he has already taken the registration forms for new patients and is
telling me how to compile them.
I take off my jacket and ask whether I should don a white coat. He
answers: «No no, I mean, if you want to, thereʼs one over there [indi-
cating a coat hanging behind the door]… I never wear one… You
know, here the atmosphereʼs a bit informal… and anyway, wearing a
white coat all day, what a pain!».

INSTRUCTING A NEWCOMER

«Right, itʼs really easy: you put a cross here on “issue” or “renewal”;
then you write the name, surname, date of birth, nationality, country of
origin, marital status, children…; here you write the number and type
of document, they usually have passports; here you put residence, I
mean, residence… they usually have a domicile; here you write when
they arrived in Italy, more or less, the precise date doesnʼt interest us…
Here you should put whether theyʼre unemployed, if theyʼre working, if
theyʼre studying… but since theyʼre illegal most of them are unem-
ployed. Here, against “Notes” you write “issue (or renewal) of STP5
card”, which you never know… Then you turn [the form] over, tick 1, 2
and 4, get them to sign here and here, and stamp it here… or some-
where else, wherever you want, itʼs the stamp that matters. Number 4
is the “declaration of indigence”, so that they can get free treatment
and medicine. Actually, you should ask them whether theyʼre indigent,
but, I mean… I tick it anyway, automatically… I mean, these people are
already illegal; theyʼre lucky if theyʼre doing black work, and all they
need is for us to make them pay for health care! Then another signa-
ture goes here, but it has to be my signature. With this form they can
go downstairs and are issued with a STP… you know what that is? [I
nod], but before you give it to them, you have to copy all the informa-
tion onto this other form, which we keep and put in the medical record
folder. The folders are here [a number of folders containing the two
forms are already on the desk], you write their name and surname on
the front, and you do the same on this card [which is put in an alpha-
betical file so that the folder can be retrieved if the STP does not state
the folder number]. Use the list stuck on the door to call them in… use
it, because otherwise they start slugging each other! [Giuseppeʼs tone
is ironic, but he then tells me that there have indeed been mini-riots
over who has precedence]. Come, Iʼll show you…»

3. I presume that I gave the same impres-
sion to the doctor.
4. An email message was sent by the
chief surgery doctor to notify the personnel
of my presence following our agreement.

5. The STP (Stranieri Temporaneamente
Presenti) card is a special health card
introduced by the regional administration
so that immigrants without stay permits
can access health services. It is nominal, is
valid for six months, and is renewable.



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We go to the door, and as soon as Giuseppe opens it, four people push
forward. Giuseppe shuts them up before they can speak: «Right, who
here ONLY has to get the card, ONLY THE CARD?» There is a buzz
of voices in the corridor, and Giuseppe begins with the first name on
the list; but the person is not here. He passes to the next person, but
he is waiting for a medical examination, and so are the next two peo-
ple. The fifth person needs a card. Giuseppe tells her to come into the
office and then turns to me: «Right, while youʼre doing her form, Iʼll
start with the examinations. Youʼve understood what youʼve got to do,
right? Itʼs easy, and anyway you can always ask me, Iʼm over there [in
one of the two surgeries]».
Giuseppe calls out the name of the first person on the list needing a
medical examination (who is not there, so he calls the second name),
and abandons me to my fate.

REGISTERING THE PATIENTS: AN ACTION TAKEN FOR GRANTED

I am unfamiliar with the form; even less do I understand the situation.
What language should I speak; should I use informal “tu” or formal
“lei”? While I am completing the form, should/can I engage in conver-
sation? How long should I take to fill out the form? These are details of
no little importance: some people obviously do not understand my
questions but they make every effort to reply, always in Italian; others
do not understand what/who I am talking about if I use the formal third
person singular to address them; compiling the form is laborious and a
silence ensues which I find irksome; as I slowly complete the form, I
gain the impression that some users are growing impatient. In other
words, I do not know what they expect from the service, and conse-
quently I do not know how to behave.
Moreover, as was perhaps predictable, the second form (the one that
stays in the medical records folder) has items which do not appear on
the first form: place of arrival in Italy; presence (or otherwise) of family
members; type of dwelling (private home, reception centre, dormitory);
type of work in Italy (if the person works); type of work in the home
country (if the person worked); religion. Compiling this second form fur-
ther increases the time separating the immigrants from possession of
a card which in some way ensures their access to health care, and
which at the same time attests to their existence as individuals in a par-
ticular space and time.
As soon as I begin to fill out the forms, I encounter exceptions: some-
one wants to renew a STP card on behalf of someone else; the name
of the birthplace on the Ukrainian documents is indecipherable
because it is written in Cyrillic (and they do not know how to write in
Italian); some cannot remember (or do not want to disclose) their date
of arrival in Italy; Moroccan passports give only the year of birth, not
the date; the immigrants sometimes have photocopies of documents
but not the originals; the less educated are not always able to say how
many years of school they have attended; some want to renew STP
cards before they expire; at a certain point, there are no more index
cards for the medical records. In all these situations, I ask Giuseppe



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what to do, and his answer is always: «Yes, yes, thereʼs no problem».
I gain the impression that what matters is completing the form (in one
way or another). As to exact consistency between the items and what
is written, this appears to be less important.
After I have been in the office for around an hour, however, the situa-
tion seems to be under control: I am in the patient registration area fill-
ing out forms while Giuseppe is in one of the two surgeries examining
patients. As I grow accustomed to the work, I am able to detach myself
and look at the situation from outside. When I go out of the door to call
someone, I am besieged by those waiting. And there is always some-
one (often the same person) who wants to check their situation and
asks what number on the list has been reached. Moreover, because
the immigrants have written their names on the waiting list in their own
handwriting, it is not always possible to decipher them and/or pro-
nounce them properly, so that it is better to call the name out twice with
a slight variation of pronunciation. If the person does not respond,
someone else may tell them that their name has been called, or inform
the attendant (me) where the person is sitting.

RECOUNTING AND RECOUNTING ONESELF

I am struck in my interaction with the users by their desire (regardless
of their linguistic competence) to express themselves and to talk
about themselves. When asked about children, none of them answer
just “yes” or “no”, but they all tell me how many children they have;
when asked about their date of arrival in Italy, they also tell me how
they arrived; when asked about work, many of them specify what their
occupation is/should be. As a paradigmatic example, while I am com-
piling the STP forms, a Moldovan woman fishes photographs out of
her handbag and begins to show them to me: they are of her two
daughters (both students in Moldavia), and the woman tells me all
their vicissitudes, so that I am obliged to leaf through almost the entire
album.
Finally, there are the micro-stories that develop between me and the
immigrants. A young Tunisian who has to have a blood test (because
his wife is pregnant) wants to be reassured that hashish and marijua-
na markers will not appear («because I smoke a lot, always… and if
they discover it…»). A Moroccan man wants to know if the people
working for the service are all “real” doctors, because he fears he will
not be treated properly in a facility for illegal immigrants. Another
Moroccan wants to know if any of the doctors speak French, because
he cannot speak Italian. He is accompanied by a young boy (Moroc-
can, but he could be Italian from his appearance and his language abil-
ity, whose relationship with the older man I cannot ascertain), who acts
as an interpreter.

«WE AT COUS-COUS»

Time passes quickly, and although at least forty people came during
the afternoon, the corridor is now empty. Giuseppe thanks me warmly



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Attila Bruni

and says that only rarely do they finish on time. «According to the
schedule, the service should close at 19:00, but when youʼve got ten
people whoʼve been waiting for two hours, what are you supposed to
do? Tell them to come back tomorrow?» This prolongation of the ser-
vice does not help relations with the neighbourhood (i.e., the rest of the
building): «The cleaning women want to go home at a certain time
(quite rightly) and so every so often… they switch the electricity off!6»
Although Giuseppe laughs at this as an exceptional case, I have the
distinct impression that Cous-Cousʼs relations with its neighbours are
not particularly good. For example, on entering the building the pres-
ence of Cous-Cous is almost invisible, and I myself had to ask for infor-
mation the first time I went. When I reached the first floor, I could not
understand whether the office adjoined the surgeries, so I (mistaken-
ly) knocked on the door of the health centre director. I asked for Dr. Pic-
ciatello, but the person who answered the door said that there was no
Dr. Picciatello there. When I added «Cous-Cous», her reaction was:
«Ah… itʼs that we donʼt know the names of our colleagues.»
But another reason why Cous-Cous stands out is that the doctors
describe themselves as a community with practices alternative to
those of ordinary hospital facilities. When Giuseppe talks about Cous-
Cous he does so in terms of “us”; when he describes its structure, he
distinguishes between a group of more expert doctors (“the founders”)
and one of apprentices (“the youngsters”). He asks me about my
curiosity in Cous-Cous, and when I have explained, he exclaims with
pleasure «So we at Cous-Cous are famous then!» Before locking the
door, he takes a last look round to make sure that everything is in place
(the new folders, the desk, the chairs, the windows), rather as one
does before leaving home.
As we go out, Giuseppe removes the waiting list stuck to the door, and
complains (through clenched teeth) about the rapidity with which he
has had to examine the patients. Given the large number of them, and
the fact that for large part of the afternoon he has been the only doc-
tor present, he has not been able to devote enough time to each
patient. «To do a proper examination, you have to palpate and listen,
then you have to explain, try to make yourself understood, but when
youʼve got the corridor full of people, what can you do?! Today Iʼve lis-
tened, Iʼve got them to describe their symptoms, Iʼve prescribed
medicines… but I havenʼt had time to put them on the examination
couch and touch them one by one.»
According to Giuseppe, the main reason why people resort to Cous-
Cous is their unlawful situation, which precludes any other access to
health care. Moreover, Giuseppe continues, «the people who come
here have already been creamed off. In the sense that they come here
because theyʼve been told to by a friend, relative, or at any rate some-
one they trust.» This reminds me that many of the people that I regis-
tered were accompanied by someone already in possession of a STP
card, and that all of them seemed very well informed about the service
provided, even if it was the first time they had used it.
Two people are waiting for Giuseppe outside the building. They have
not been able to enter because they arrived too late (the main doors to

6. I observe later that at 19:30 the clean-
ing women usually knock on the Cous-
Cous door and (vigorously) invite all those
present to leave so that they can finish
their work. It may also happen that some-
one arriving late walks across the floor
that had just been mopped and is still
damp, understandably annoying the clean-
ers.



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the health board building are closed at 18:00), but Giuseppe has told
them (by telephone) to come this afternoon, so they have been waiting
for him. «Youʼve done exactly right!», says Giuseppe, as he leans on
a car and begins to write prescriptions.

NEGOTIATING ACCESS:
FROM THE PROFESSIONAL STRANGER
TO THE SECRET APPRENTICE

The observation of Cous-Cous raises numerous issues concerning
organization, the routine management of differences and inequalities,
and the trajectory of access to the organization for the clients. I have
sought to account for them using a deliberately impressionistic narra-
tive (Van Maanen, 1988), but the aim of this paper is not to offer an
organizational analysis of what is described.
The story that I have offered is rather an attempt to frame negotiation
and access to the field as both a research process and an organiza-
tional process: that is to say, as a dynamic that not only permits reflec-
tion on how the researcher gains access to the organization, but also
an occasion to begin observation and focus on understanding signifi-
cant organizational processes.

NEGOTIATING ACCESS: PRESENTING ONESELF AND “PASSING”

Ethnographers well know that entering a research context requires the
researcher to undergo a distinctive process of re-socialization (Emer-
son, Fretz and Shaw, 1995), as well as to learn (but not necessarily
share) the values, norms and behavioral precepts of the host commu-
nity (Spradley 1980: 3).
The negotiation of access has in fact generated discussion on two
main issues in the literature: 1/The role that organizational actors
(“gatekeepers”) may and actually do perform in facilitating the
researcherʼs access (Hammersley and Atkinson, 1995; Silverman,
2000); 2/The reversal of status between observer and observed,
whereby the observer becomes the object of observation by the
natives, who seek to determine if, and to what extent, they can trust
him/her (Cardano, 2003; Bruni, Gherardi and Poggio, 2004).
The two issues are obviously connected. They highlight that when
access to an organizational context is being negotiated, the actors are
much more interested in the researcher as a person than in the theo-
retical assumptions of the research. This is something that is by now
taken for granted in ethnographic work (Denzin and Lincoln, 1994). It
is all the more true of organizations, where the presence of a
researcher may interfere with both immediate productive activity (the
work performed by people) and the broader organizational setting (the
inter-relations among actors). Often, moreover, organizations have
rules concerning the non-disclosure of information and the privacy of
the subjects involved. Their concern is therefore to maintain control
over the processes taking place internally.



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Thus, what the literature suggests (e.g., Silverman, 2000) is to pay
attention to the organizationʼs characteristics (type and size); not to
assume that the actors encountered will be acquainted with organiza-
tional ethnography; to persuade the gatekeepers (actors who either
spontaneously or because of their institutional role protect the organi-
zation against intrusion by undesirables) that neither the presence of
an ethnographer, nor his/her research will cause damage and/or dis-
ruption to the organization; to guarantee anonymity, respect for priva-
cy, and minimum intrusiveness by the researcher. Silverman (2000)
notes the importance of showing the organization that the analysis will
be of interest to the organization itself, and specifying that observing
does not mean spying. But the crucial factor (which the literature often
overlooks) is the researcherʼs image.
We know from Goffman (1959; 1967) that correct role interpretation
is important in social interactions, and that our physical appearance
is inevitably one of the first features perceived when we encounter
others, and may consequently influence the situation. The majority of
authors therefore insist that the ethnographer should present
him/herself as a professional and convey an image which does not
clash with the organizational context and thereby heighten the sen-
sation of intrusion and disruption that the actors will anyway feel. Sil-
verman (2000), for example, recounts an episode when he was
negotiating access to an organization with a doctor (dressed in very
traditional manner) and was rebuffed because (according to the doc-
tor) the leather jacket that Silverman was wearing showed scant
respect towards the patients.
However, although image is of fundamental importance, I myself have
encountered situations where an image clashing with the context
and/or the actorsʼ expectations has proved more a resource than an
impediment (Bruni et al., 2004; Bruni, 2006), my impression being that
access to the field was granted amongst other things because the
interlocutors were intrigued by my physical appearance. They were
curious to see how other members of the organization would react,
what sort of research I would conduct, and how I would get myself
accepted. Note that a certain amount of ambiguity may even be advan-
tageous: in my experience, for example, people sometimes grant
access to their organizations because they have not exactly under-
stood what the research involves and their curiosity has been aroused
(Bruni et al., 2004).
In this sense, access strategies are also the contingent product of the
researcherʼs creativity and ability to improvise. This was particularly
explicit in reference to Cous-Cous, where I introduced himself by
enacting my “character” in terms of both similarity and difference: what
was important was to play along, showing awareness of oneʼs image
and an ability to handle it regardless of whether or not it matched that
of the interlocutor. Hence negotiating access to the field can be termed
a “passing” activity. Garfinkel (1967) uses this term with reference to
the inventiveness and tenacity required to give persuasive reasons for
oneʼs actions. Moreover, the term has an intrinsic polysemy: it carries
the sense of passing a test but also that of passing oneself off as



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something which one is not, the ability to position oneself within a dis-
course and to act as an insider. As in the ethnographic experience of
entering Cous-Cous, the tipping point in the negotiation often comes
when the researcher manages to show that s/he belongs to the same
world as the actors, and therefore passes by playing the game, getting
involved, and privileging elements which give the researcher empa-
thetic closeness to the context. For that matter, ethnographers increas-
ingly maintain that it is illusory to believe that researchers can base
their requests to witness and participate in everyday interaction on
their analytical distance, putting themselves forward as entirely extra-
neous and disinterested actors (Lerum, 2001).
Thus, the crux of the negotiation in the case of Cous-Cous seemingly
lay in my ability to present myself as a participant just like the actors,
and therefore in “passing myself off” as a participant, as involved, as
privileging (probably) elements arising from my empathy with the envi-
ronment. It is ideological to believe that a request to observe and par-
ticipate in everyday action can be based on the analytical distance of
a «professional stranger» (Agar, 1980), or on the claim that one is
entirely extraneous and disinterested. On the contrary, in order to find
my bearings, I adopted a behavior that resembled that of Garfinkelʼs
(1967: 146) «secret apprentice»:
— noting situations in which I felt that the others shared particular
assumptions;
— learning these assumptions during the interaction (without realizing
that I was doing so);
— taking part in situations in which the others presumed that the prin-
ciples being learned were already shared.
At the same time, it is important to note that amid the interactions
among gatekeepers, intermediaries, guarantors and ethnographer,
actors begin reciprocally to construct their identities. Already in this first
phase, therefore, ethnographers are able to collect information about
the place they are seeking to enter.
Thus, let us return to Cous-Cous and explore what can be learned in
ethnographical and organizational terms as access is negotiated.

NEGOTIATING ACCESS: AN OPPORTUNITY FOR ETHNOGRAPHIC
AND ORGANIZATIONAL OBSERVATION

In relation to the ethnographic account, one of the first things to be
noted was the enthusiastic welcome and the informality with which
the organization related to an external observer. This inclusiveness
was such that even an outsider (myself) was immediately co-opted
and allowed unrestricted access to the workings of the organization.
Whilst the instructions given me can be interpreted as technical
information about registering users and issuing a STP card, they
also communicated what constituted competent forms of action
within this organization. Competence at Cous-Cous was an ability to
handle the bureaucratic aspects of everyday work in the same way
as I was asked to cope with a form entirely unfamiliar to me, and
whose main characteristic was (as the doctor put it) «itʼs got a



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Attila Bruni

stamp». From the way in which I was instructed, it seems that the
logic was that of adapting the bureaucracy to the users: not coinci-
dentally, the doctor followed every instruction on how to compile the
form with an alternative possible action, according to the actual case
at hand. This logic manifested the value commitment required of the
organizationʼs members and mirrored the actorsʼ inclusive attitude
towards the extraneous: Cous-Cous is a voluntary association set
up to affirm the universality of a right (to health in this case) and
which therefore seeks to translate a political doctrine into its organi-
zational practices (as the doctor said with reference to the declara-
tion of indigence: «These people are already illegal; theyʼre lucky if
theyʼre doing black work, all they need is for us to make them pay
for health care!»). For this same reason, it was somehow impossi-
ble for a researcher to pretend to be there without engaging with
everyday activities.
The characteristics of organizational action (suspension of the taken-
for-granted; the ambiguous boundary between the interior and the
exterior; the organizationʼs fiduciary dimension) were the same ele-
ments that I had to deal with in order to enter the organization; and
the destructured, unpredictable and improvised nature of action that
I experienced was probably little different from that experienced
every day by the centerʼs personnel. Moreover, the way in which I
gained access to the field mirrored the same feeling of being out of
place that immigrants experience when entering a public service for
the first time: not knowing what to do, how to talk, what to refer to,
how to interpret practices and meanings encountered for the first
time.
From an even broader perspective, one may argue that the processes
inducing actors to accept the presence of a researcher do not relate to
a logic other than that which operates in everyday organizational prac-
tices. As in the Cous-Cous episode, just as the researcher is con-
cerned to make a good impression (the purpose being to gain access
to the field), so the organizational actors want to furnish a positive
image of themselves and to express their opinions about the place
where they work. Thus, the way in which the researcher passes char-
acterizes also the organization and can be a useful benchmark for
observation and interpretation of future events.
For the sake of expository economy (researchers are accustomed to
writing), organizational ethnographies omit detailed treatment of entry
negotiation processes, at most recounting their first encounters in con-
fessional tales (Van Maanen, 1988; Kunda, 1992). Hence there are no
substantial reasons for assuming that negotiation of access to the field
takes place in a dimension unconnected with the actorsʼ everyday log-
ics and practices of action. In particular, if the focus is on organiza-
tional practices, negotiating access is a significant moment of interac-
tion at which to begin observing and noting the practical action of the
actors. It is an activity that takes place in a dimension which relates
both to the subjectsʼ patterns of everyday action and to the assump-
tions which inform the research. It is therefore stricto sensu an element
to be taken into account and analyzed.



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NEGOTIATING ACCESS:
THE SHADING OF OVERT AND COVERT PARTICIPATION

Juxtaposing the image of the professional stranger with that of the
secret apprentice, one can also dissolve the usual distinction between
overt and covert participation. There has been much debate on which
position enables the researcher to observe “real” organizational life. But
focusing on the process of access, in fact, one can note two points.
First, the role of the researcher (overt/covert) does not have a sub-
stantial influence on the kind of data that s/he will be able to collect. In
both cases the observation will be temporally limited and dependent on
the situations that s/he will have the opportunity to witness and the
ability to account for. Thus, every fieldwork experience will be intrinsi-
cally partial and will not be exhaustive. At the same time, the truth of a
fieldwork experience (as well as the role of the researcher) will be sit-
uated in the way(s) that the trajectory of access constructs actors,
researcher and the organization observed.
Second, organizational life consists of interactive processes and
everyday work practices. Real organizational life is dynamic. Conse-
quently, the ability of ethnographers should be mainly an interpretative
ability to account for the variety of processes observed and reassem-
ble organizational and work practices in a meaningful world. The idea
of a «meaningful world» (Schutz, 1967: 9) reminds us that reality
(organizational, but not only) is interactively constructed, does not exist
per se, and that its order is precarious, capricious and subject to con-
stant discussion. As in the Cous-Cous case, where the researcher
immediately has to confront organizational practices (and contingent
work), the negotiation of access probably marks the beginning of the
debate between researcher and organization and can be an occasion
to observe how the organization faces ambiguous events, such as that
of an extraneous other who is trying to enter it.
Third, there is an ethical dimension in doing research and accessing the
field (Adler and Adler, 1994). Entering an organization pretending not to
discuss and arrange with the people involved how the observation will
take place reproduces the behavior of those anthropologists who pre-
tend to study natives by assuming that the latter were sufficiently devel-
oped to understand the reason for the research. Silverman (2000: 199)
advises researchers not to fall in the trap of «divine orthodoxy»: the
ethnographer who pretends to understand organizational action better
than the people actually involved in it will be easily perceived as pre-
sumptuous and will have restricted access to the field. In fact, as in the
case we have seen, negotiating access is also a way to problematize the
role of the researcher, who has the opportunity to reflect on the ethical
implications of his/her presence and research activity.

CONCLUSIONS: ACCESS AS TRAJECTORY

As noted by other authors (e.g., Gobo, 2001, forthcoming), a hand-
book of methodology cannot include the whole plethora of strategies



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Attila Bruni

that ethnographers can deploy in accessing the field. These depend
on the characteristics of the organization, on its dimensions and on the
aims of the research. Strategies of access, therefore, are also the con-
tingent result of researcherʼs creativity and of his/her encounter with
organizational actors.
But even if contingent, these dynamics do not relate to a logic other
than that which operates in everyday organizational practices; on the
contrary, the way(s) in which the researcher passes characterizes fur-
ther individual cases, and it may be a useful benchmark for observa-
tion and interpretation. I do not want to say that researchers should
jump to conclusions or abstractions referring only to what happened to
them on entering the organization, nor that they should assume a-
problematically that what they witness at the beginning is absolutely
typical of the organization they are going to observe. The argument is
a different one and it points up two major interrelated issues.
First, in organizational ethnography, accessing the field is a never-end-
ing process; or, better, is a process that one should never assume has
been accomplished once and for all. This is due to the fact that ethno-
graphers usually negotiate access with actors (be these intermedi-
aries, guarantors or gatekeepers) who are not the same people (or, at
least, not the only people) that they will meet in the field. Accessing the
field thus requires considerable flexibility in terms of presence and
image management, as regards emotional aspects, and because of
the intrusiveness connected with any type of ethnographic inquiry.
Accessing the field constantly obliges the ethnographer to adapt to the
organizationʼs times and spaces, immediately to learn the knowledge
underpinning basic activities, and to devise ad hoc techniques with
which to enter into contact with actors and collect information.
Second, accessing the field can be framed as a trajectory which leads
in multiple (and different) directions depending on the ethnographerʼs
ability to follow organizational processes and to demonstrate an ability
to take part in them. In some situations (like the one I have presented)
this immediately leads to active participation, but in others it may
require the ethnographer to sit quietly and not intervene in the work
flow (as has happened to me in other organizational settings). It
depends on the kind of organization, on the process that the ethnog-
rapher is trying to observe, and on the rapport that s/he is able to
establish with organizational actors. But it also depends on how the
organization relates to people who do not belong to it, and on the path
that must be followed to gain the membersʼ trust.
Finally, negotiating access to the field is a significant moment of inter-
action when observing and noting the actorsʼ practical action can
begin. As noted, there are no substantial reasons for assuming that
negotiation of access to the field takes place in a dimension different
from the actorsʼ everyday logics and practices of action; nor that what
the ethnographer is doing while accessing the field is different from
what s/he will do while fieldworking.
In conclusion, access is a trajectory, and it is consequently important
that the researcher interrogate him/herself on how that trajectory
should be constructed, and on how it intersects (or otherwise) with



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Access as Trajectory: Entering the Field in Organizational Ethnography

other trajectories of organizational life. As a trajectory, access may
have various ramifications: according to the actors and situations that
they encounter, ethnographers must be able to adjust their interactive
modes and (ideally) learn something new about the organization
observed whenever they meet an unknown person/situation. Indeed,
from the beginning of an ethnography, the researcher is directly
involved in the reality observed, while his or her image as a privileged
observer is re-located in contexts of action and takes part in the pro-
duction of meanings as the natives participate in the observerʼs entry
and involve him/her in their everyday lives.

Note. A previous version of this paper was presented at the 22nd EGOS Colloquium,
“The Organizing Society” (Bergen, 6-8 July 2006) in the sub-theme “Doing Organiza-
tional Ethnographies and other Interpretative Methods: Issues and Concerns”. I am in
debt with the convenors and the participants of the sub-theme for their comments. I also
wish to thank the guest editors and an anonymous reviewer for their useful suggestions.

Attila Bruni is a postdoctorate researcher at the Department of Sociology and Social
Research, University of Trento. He currently teaches sociology of organizations at the
University of Verona and is a senior member of the Research Unit on Communication,
Organizational Learning and Aesthetics (http://www.unitn.it/rucola).

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