misinterpretation model thesis examples

A worked example of Braun and Clarke’s approach to reflexive thematic analysis

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• Published: 26 June 2021
• Volume 56 , pages 1391–1412, ( 2022 )

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• David Byrne   ORCID: orcid.org/0000-0002-0587-4677 1  

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Since the publication of their inaugural paper on the topic in 2006, Braun and Clarke’s approach has arguably become one of the most thoroughly delineated methods of conducting thematic analysis (TA). However, confusion persists as to how to implement this specific approach to TA appropriately. The authors themselves have identified that many researchers who purport to adhere to this approach—and who reference their work as such—fail to adhere fully to the principles of ‘reflexive thematic analysis’ (RTA). Over the course of numerous publications, Braun and Clarke have elaborated significantly upon the constitution of RTA and attempted to clarify numerous misconceptions that they have found in the literature. This paper will offer a worked example of Braun and Clarke’s contemporary approach to reflexive thematic analysis with the aim of helping to dispel some of the confusion regarding the position of RTA among the numerous existing typologies of TA. While the data used in the worked example has been garnered from health and wellbeing education research and was examined to ascertain educators’ attitudes regarding such, the example offered of how to implement the RTA would be easily transferable to many other contexts and research topics.

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1 Introduction

Although the lineage of thematic analysis (TA) can be traced back as far as the early twentieth century (Joffe 2012 ), it has up until recently been a relatively poorly demarcated and poorly understood method of qualitative analysis. Much of the credit for the recent enlightenment and subsequent increase in interest in TA can arguably be afforded to Braun and Clarke’s ( 2006 ) inaugural publication on the topic of thematic analysis in the field of psychology. These authors have since published several articles and book chapters, as well as their own book, all of which make considerable contributions to further delineating their approach to TA (see, for example, Braun and Clarke 2012 , 2013 , 2014 , 2019 , 2020 ; Braun et al. 2016 ; Terry et al. 2017 ). However, on numerous occasions Braun and Clarke have identified a tendency for scholars to cite their 2006 article, but fail to fully adhere to their contemporary approach to RTA (see Braun and Clarke 2013 , 2019 , 2020 ). Commendably, they have acknowledged that their 2006 paper left several aspect of their approach incompletely defined and open to interpretation. Indeed, the term ‘reflexive thematic analysis’ only recently came about in response to these misconceptions (Braun and Clarke 2019 ). Much of their subsequent body of literature in this area addresses these issues and attempts to correct some of the misconceptions in the wider literature regarding their approach. Braun and Clarke have repeatedly iterated that researchers who chose to adopt their approach should interrogate their relevant publications beyond their 2006 article and adhere to their contemporary approach (Braun and Clarke 2019 , 2020 ). The purpose of this paper is to contribute to dispelling some of the confusion and misconceptions regarding Braun and Clarke’s approach by providing a worked example of their contemporary approach to reflexive thematic analysis. The worked example will be presented in relation to the author’s own research, which examined the attitudes of post-primary educators’ regarding the promotion of student wellbeing. This paper is intended to be a supplementary resource for any prospective proponents of RTA, but may be of particular interest to scholars conducting attitudinal studies in an educational context. While this paper is aimed at all scholars regardless of research experience, it may be most useful to research students and their supervisors. Ultimately, the provided example of how to implement the six-phase analysis is easily transferable to many contexts and research topics.

2 What is reflexive thematic analysis?

Reflexive thematic analysis is an easily accessible and theoretically flexible interpretative approach to qualitative data analysis that facilitates the identification and analysis of patterns or themes in a given data set (Braun and Clarke 2012 ). RTA sits among a number of varied approaches to conducting thematic analysis. Braun and Clarke have noted that very often, researchers who purport to have adopted RTA have failed to fully delineate their implementation of RTA, of have confused RTA with other approaches to thematic analysis. The over-riding tendency in this regard is for scholars to mislabel their analysis as RTA, or to draw from a number of different approaches to TA, some of which may not be compatible with each other (Braun and Clarke 2012 , 2013 , 2019 ; Terry et al. 2017 ). In an attempt to resolve this confusion, Braun and Clarke have demarcated the position of RTA among the other forms of thematic analysis by differentiating between three principal approaches to TA: (1) coding reliability TA; (2) codebook approaches to TA, and; (3) the reflexive approach to TA (Braun et al. 2019 ).

Coding reliability approaches, such as those espoused by Boyatzis ( 1998 ) and Joffe ( 2012 ), accentuate the measurement of accuracy or reliability when coding data, often involving the use of a structured codebook. The researcher would also seek a degree of consensus among multiple coders, which can be measured using Cohen’s Kappa (Braun and Clarke 2013 ). When adopting a coding reliability approach, themes tend to be developed very early in the analytical process. Themes can be hypothesised based on theory prior to data collection, with evidence to support these hypotheses then gathered from the data in the form of codes. Alternatively, themes can be hypothesised following a degree of familiarisation with the data (Terry et al. 2017 ). Themes are typically understood to constitute ‘domain summaries’, or “summaries of what participants said in relation to a particular topic or data collection question” (Braun et al. 2019 , p. 5), and are likely to be discussed as residing within the data in a positivistic sense.

Codebook approaches, such as framework analysis (Smith and Firth 2011 ) or template analysis (King and Brooks 2017 ), can be understood to be something of a mid-point between coding reliability approaches and the reflexive approach. Like coding reliability approaches, codebook approaches adopt the use of a structured codebook and share the conceptualisation of themes as domain summaries. However, codebook approaches are more akin to the reflexive approach in terms of the prioritisation of a qualitative philosophy with regard to coding. Proponents of codebook approaches would typically forgo positivistic conceptions of coding reliability, instead recognising the interpretive nature of data coding (Braun et al. 2019 ).

The reflexive approach to TA highlights the researcher’s active role in knowledge production (Braun and Clarke 2019 ). Codes are understood to represent the researcher’s interpretations of patterns of meaning across the dataset. Reflexive thematic analysis is considered a reflection of the researcher’s interpretive analysis of the data conducted at the intersection of: (1) the dataset; (2) the theoretical assumptions of the analysis, and; (3) the analytical skills/resources of the researcher (Braun and Clarke 2019 ). It is fully appreciated—even expected—that no two researchers will intersect this tripartite of criteria in the same way. As such, there should be no expectation that codes or themes interpreted by one researcher may be reproduced by another (although, this is of course possible). Prospective proponents of RTA are discouraged from attempting to provide accounts of ‘accurate’ or ‘reliable’ coding, or pursuing consensus among multiple coders or using Cohen’s Kappa values. Rather, RTA is about “the researcher’s reflective and thoughtful engagement with their data and their reflexive and thoughtful engagement with the analytic process” (Braun and Clarke 2019 , p. 594). Multiple coders may, however, be beneficial in a reflexive manner (e.g. to sense-check ideas, or to explore multiple assumptions or interpretations of the data). If analysis does involve more than one researcher, the approach should be collaborative and reflexive, aiming to achieve richer interpretations of meaning, rather than attempting to achieve consensus of meaning. Indeed, in this sense it would be beneficial for proponents of RTA to remain cognisant that qualitative analysis as a whole does not contend to provide a single or ‘correct’ answer (Braun and Clarke 2013 ).

The process of coding (and theme development) is flexible and organic, and very often will evolve throughout the analytical process (Braun et al. 2019 ). Progression through the analysis will tend to facilitate further familiarity with the data, which may in turn result in the interpretation of new patterns of meaning. This is converse to the use of codebooks, which can often predefine themes before coding. Through the reflexive approach, themes are not predefined in order to ‘find’ codes. Rather, themes are produced by organising codes around a relative core commonality, or ‘central organising concept’, that the researcher interprets from the data (Braun and Clarke 2019 ).

In their 2006 paper, Braun and Clarke ( 2006 ) originally conceptualised RTA as a paradigmatically flexible analytical method, suitable for use within a wide range of ontological and epistemological considerations. In recent publications, the authors have moved away from this view, instead defining RTA as a purely qualitative approach. This pushes the use RTA into exclusivity under appropriate qualitative paradigms (e.g. constructionism) (Braun and Clarke 2019 , 2020 ). As opposed to other forms of qualitative analysis such as content analysis (Vaismoradi et al. 2013 ), and even other forms of TA such as Boyatzis’ ( 1998 ) approach, RTA eschews any positivistic notions of data interpretation. Braun and Clarke ( 2019 ) encourage the researcher to embrace reflexivity, subjectivity and creativity as assets in knowledge production, where they argue some scholars, such as Boyatzis ( 1998 ), may otherwise construe these assets as threats.

3 A worked example of reflexive thematic analysis

The data used in the following example is taken from the qualitative phase of a mixed methods study I conducted, which examined mental health in an educational context. This study set out to understand the attitudes and opinions of Irish post-primary educators with regard to the promotion of students’ social and emotional wellbeing, with the intention to feed this information back to key governmental and non-governmental stakeholders such as the National Council for Curriculum and Assessment and the Department of Education. The research questions for this study aimed to examine educators’ general attitudes toward the promotion of student wellbeing and towards a set of ‘wellbeing guidelines’ that had recently been introduced in Irish post-primary schools. I also wanted to identify any potential barriers to wellbeing promotion and to solicit educators’ opinions as to what might constitute apposite remedial measures in this regard.

The qualitative phase of this study, from which the data for this example is garnered, involved eleven semi-structured interviews, which lasted approximately 25–30 min each. Participants consisted of core-curriculum teachers, wellbeing curriculum teachers, pastoral care team-members and senior management members. Participants were questioned on their attitudes regarding the promotion of student wellbeing, the wellbeing curriculum, the wellbeing guidelines and their perceptions of their own wellbeing. When conducting these interviews, I loosely adhered to an interview agenda to ensure each of these four key topics were addressed. However, discussions were typically guided by what I interpreted to be meaningful to the interviewee, and would often weave in and out of these different topics.

The research questions for this study were addressed within a paradigmatic framework of interpretivism and constructivism. A key principle I adopted for this study was to reflect educators’ own accounts of their attitudes, opinions and experiences as faithfully as was possible, while also accounting for the reflexive influence of my own interpretations as the researcher. I felt RTA was highly appropriate in the context of the underlying theoretical and paradigmatic assumptions of my study and would allow me to ensure qualitative data was collected and analysed in a manner that respected and expressed the subjectivity of participants’ accounts of their attitudes, while also acknowledging and embracing the reflexive influence of my interpretations as the researcher.

In the next section, I will outline the theoretical assumptions of the RTA conducted in my original study in more detail. It should be noted that outlining these theoretical assumptions is not a task specific to reflexive thematic analysis. Rather, these assumptions should be addressed prior to implementing any form of thematic analysis (Braun and Clarke 2012 , 2019 , 2020 ; Braun et al. 2016 ). The six-phase process for conducting reflexive thematic analysis will then be appropriately detailed and punctuated with examples from my study.

3.1 Addressing underlying theoretical assumptions

Across several publications, Braun and Clarke ( 2012 , 2014 , 2020 ) have identified a number of theoretical assumptions that should be addressed when conducting RTA, or indeed any form of thematic analysis. These assumptions are conceptualised as a series of continua as follows: essentialist versus constructionist epistemologies; experiential versus critical orientation to data; inductive versus deductive analyses, and; semantic versus latent coding of data. The aim is not just for the researcher to identify where their analysis is situated on each of these continua, but why the analysis is situated as it is and why this conceptualisation is appropriate to answering the research question(s).

3.1.1 Essentialist versus constructionist epistemologies

Ontological and epistemological considerations would usually be determined when a study is first being conceptualised. However, these considerations may become salient again when data analysis becomes the research focus, particularly with regard to mixed methods. The purpose of addressing this continuum is to conceptualise theoretically how the researcher understands their data and the way in which the reader should interpret the findings (Braun and Clarke 2013 , 2014 ). By adhering to essentialism, the researcher adopts a unidirectional understanding of the relationship between language and communicated experience, in that it is assumed that language is a simple reflection of our articulated meanings and experiences (Widdicombe and Wooffiitt 1995 ). The meanings and systems inherent in constructing these meanings are largely uninterrogated, with the interpretive potential of TA largely unutilised (Braun et al. 2016 ).

Conversely, researchers of a constructionist persuasion would tend to adopt a bidirectional understanding of the language/experience relationship, viewing language as implicit in the social production and reproduction of both meaning and experience (Burr 1995 ; Schwandt 1998 ). A constructionist epistemology has particular implications with regard to thematic analysis, namely that in addition to the recurrence of perceptibly important information, meaningfulness is highly influential in the development and interpretation of codes and themes. The criteria for a theme to be considered noteworthy via recurrence is simply that the theme should present repeatedly within the data. However, what is common is not necessarily meaningful or important to the analysis. Braun and Clarke ( 2012 , p. 37) offer this example:

…in researching white-collar workers’ experiences of sociality at work, a researcher might interview people about their work environment and start with questions about their typical workday. If most or all reported that they started work at around 9:00 a.m., this would be a pattern in the data, but it would not necessarily be a meaningful or important one.

Furthermore, there may be varying degrees of conviction in respondents’ expression when addressing different issues that may facilitate in identifying the salience of a prospective theme. Therefore, meaningfulness can be conceptualised, firstly on the part of the researcher, with regard to the necessity to identify themes that are relevant to answering the research questions, and secondly on the part of the respondent, as the expression of varying degrees of importance with regard to the issues being addressed. By adopting a constructionist epistemology, the researcher acknowledges the importance of recurrence, but appreciates meaning and meaningfulness as the central criteria in the coding process.

In keeping with the qualitative philosophy of RTA, epistemological consideration regarding the example data were constructionist. As such, meaning and experience was interpreted to be socially produced and reproduced via an interplay of subjective and inter-subjective construction. Footnote 1

3.1.2 Experiential versus critical orientation

An experiential orientation to understanding data typically prioritises the examination of how a given phenomenon may be experienced by the participant. This involves investigating the meaning ascribed to the phenomenon by the respondent, as well as the meaningfulness of the phenomenon to the respondent. However, although these thoughts, feelings and experiences are subjectively and inter-subjectively (re)produced, the researcher would cede to the meaning and meaningfulness ascribed by the participant (Braun and Clarke 2014 ). Adopting an experiential orientation requires an appreciation that the thoughts, feelings and experiences of participants are a reflection of personal states held internally by the participant. Conversely, a critical orientation appreciates and analyses discourse as if it were constitutive, rather than reflective, of respondents’ personal states (Braun and Clarke 2014 ). As such, a critical perspective seeks to interrogate patterns and themes of meaning with a theoretical understanding that language can create, rather than merely reflect, a given social reality (Terry et al. 2017 ). A critical perspective can examine the mechanisms that inform the construction of systems of meaning, and therefore offer interpretations of meaning further to those explicitly communicated by participants. It is then also possible to examine how the wider social context may facilitate or impugn these systems of meaning (Braun and Clarke 2012 ). In short, the researcher uses this continuum to clarify their intention to reflect the experience of a social reality (experiential orientation) or examine the constitution of a social reality (critical orientation).

In the present example, an experiential orientation to data interpretation was adopted in order to emphasise meaning and meaningfulness as ascribed by participants. Adopting this approach meant that this analysis did not seek to make claims about the social construction of the research topic (which would more so necessitate a critical perspective), but rather acknowledged the socially constructed nature of the research topic when examining the subjective ‘personal states’ of participants. An experiential orientation was most appropriate as the aim of the study was to prioritise educators’ own accounts of their attitudes, opinions. More importantly, the research questions aimed to examine educators’ attitudes regarding their experience of promoting student wellbeing—or the ‘meanings made’—and not, for example, the socio-cultural factors that may underlie the development of these attitudes—or the ‘meaning making’.

3.1.3 Inductive versus deductive analysis

A researcher who adopts a deductive or ‘theory-driven’ approach may wish to produce codes relative to a pre-specified conceptual framework or codebook. In this case, the analysis would tend to be ‘analyst-driven’, predicated on the theoretically informed interpretation of the researcher. Conversely, a researcher who adopts an inductive or ‘data-driven’ approach may wish to produce codes that are solely reflective of the content of the data, free from any pre-conceived theory or conceptual framework. In this case, data are not coded to fit a pre-existing coding frame, but instead ‘open-coded’ in order to best represent meaning as communicated by the participants (Braun and Clarke 2013 ). Data analysed and coded deductively can often provide a less rich description of the overall dataset, instead focusing on providing a detailed analysis of a particular aspect of the dataset interpreted through a particular theoretical lens (Braun and Clarke 2020 ). Deductive analysis has typically been associated with positivistic/essentialist approaches (e.g. Boyatzis 1998 ), while inductive analysis tends to be aligned with constructivist approaches (e.g. Frith and Gleeson 2004 ). That being said, inductive/deductive approaches to analysis are by no means exclusively or intrinsically linked to a particular epistemology.

Coding and analysis rarely fall cleanly into one of these approaches and, more often than not, use a combination of both (Braun and Clarke 2013 , 2019 , 2020 ). It is arguably not possible to conduct an exclusively deductive analysis, as an appreciation for the relationship between different items of information in the data set is necessary in order to identify recurring commonalities with regard to a pre-specified theory or conceptual framework. Equally, it is arguably not possible to conduct an exclusively inductive analysis, as the researcher would require some form of criteria to identify whether or not a piece of information may be conducive to addressing the research question(s), and therefore worth coding. When addressing this issue, Braun and Clarke ( 2012 ) clarify that one approach does tend to predominate over the other, and that the predominance of the deductive or inductive approach can indicate an overall orientation towards prioritising either researcher/theory-based meaning or respondent/data-based meaning, respectively.

A predominantly inductive approach was adopted in this example, meaning data was open-coded and respondent/data-based meanings were emphasised. A degree of deductive analysis was, however, employed to ensure that the open-coding contributed to producing themes that were meaningful to the research questions, and to ensure that the respondent/data-based meanings that were emphasised were relevant to the research questions.

3.1.4 Semantic versus latent coding

Semantic codes are identified through the explicit or surface meanings of the data. The researcher does not examine beyond what a respondent has said or written. The production of semantic codes can be described as a descriptive analysis of the data, aimed solely at presenting the content of the data as communicated by the respondent. Latent coding goes beyond the descriptive level of the data and attempts to identify hidden meanings or underlying assumptions, ideas, or ideologies that may shape or inform the descriptive or semantic content of the data. When coding is latent, the analysis becomes much more interpretive, requiring a more creative and active role on the part of the researcher. Indeed, Braun and Clarke ( 2012 , 2013 , 2020 ) have repeatedly presented the argument that codes and themes do not ‘emerge’ from the data or that they may be residing in the data, waiting to be found. Rather, the researcher plays an active role in interpreting codes and themes, and identifying which are relevant to the research question(s). Analyses that use latent coding can often overlap with aspects of thematic discourse analysis in that the language used by the respondent can be used to interpret deeper levels of meaning and meaningfulness (Braun and Clarke 2006 ).

In this example, both semantic and latent coding were utilised. No attempt was made to prioritise semantic coding over latent coding or vice-versa. Rather, semantic codes were produced when meaningful semantic information was interpreted, and latent codes were produced when meaningful latent information was interpreted. As such, any item of information could be double-coded in accordance with the semantic meaning communicated by the respondent, and the latent meaning interpreted by the researcher (Patton 1990 ). This was reflective of the underlying theoretical assumptions of the analysis, as the constructive and interpretive epistemology and ontology were addressed by affording due consideration to both the meaning constructed and communicated by the participant and my interpretation of this meaning as the researcher.

3.2 The six-phase analytical process

Braun and Clarke ( 2012 , 2013 , 2014 , 2020 ) have proposed a six-phase process, which can facilitate the analysis and help the researcher identify and attend to the important aspects of a thematic analysis. In this sense, Braun and Clarke ( 2012 ) have identified the six-phase process as an approach to doing TA, as well as learning how to do TA. While the six phases are organised in a logical sequential order, the researcher should be cognisant that the analysis is not a linear process of moving forward through the phases. Rather, the analysis is recursive and iterative, requiring the researcher to move back and forth through the phases as necessary (Braun and Clarke 2020 ). TA is a time consuming process that evolves as the researcher navigates the different phases. This can lead to new interpretations of the data, which may in turn require further iterations of earlier phases. As such, it is important to appreciate the six-phase process as a set of guidelines, rather than rules, that should be applied in a flexible manner to fit the data and the research question(s) (Braun and Clarke 2013 , 2020 ).

3.2.1 Phase one: familiarisation with the data

The ‘familiarisation’ phase is prevalent in many forms of qualitative analysis. Familiarisation entails the reading and re-reading of the entire dataset in order to become intimately familiar with the data. This is necessary to be able to identify appropriate information that may be relevant to the research question(s). Manual transcription of data can be a very useful activity for the researcher in this regard, and can greatly facilitate a deep immersion into the data. Data should be transcribed orthographically, noting inflections, breaks, pauses, tones, etc. on the part of both the interviewer and the participant (Braun and Clarke 2013 ). Often times, data may not have been gathered or transcribed by the researcher, in which case, it would be beneficial for the researcher to watch/listen to video or audio recordings to achieve a greater contextual understanding of the data. This phase can be quite time consuming and requires a degree of patience. However, it is important to afford equal consideration across the entire depth and breadth of the dataset, and to avoid the temptation of being selective of what to read, or even ‘skipping over’ this phase completely (Braun and Clarke 2006 ).

At this phase, I set about familiarising myself with the data by firstly listening to each interview recording once before transcribing that particular recording. This first playback of each interview recording required ‘active listening’ and, as such, I did not take any notes at this point. I performed this active-listen in order to develop an understanding of the primary areas addressed in each interview prior to transcription. This also provided me an opportunity, unburdened by tasks such as note taking, to recall gestures and mannerisms that may or may not have been documented in interview notes. I manually transcribed each interview immediately after the active-listen playback. When transcription of all interviews was complete, I read each transcripts numerous times. At this point, I took note of casual observations of initial trends in the data and potentially interesting passages in the transcripts. I also documented my thoughts and feelings regarding both the data and the analytical process (in terms of transparency, it would be beneficial to adhere to this practice throughout the entire analysis). Some preliminary notes made during the early iterations of familiarisation with the data can be seen in Box 1. It will be seen later that some of these notes would go on to inform the interpretation of the finalised thematic framework.

Example of preliminary notes taken during phase one

3.2.2 Phase two: generating initial codes

Codes are the fundamental building blocks of what will later become themes. The process of coding is undertaken to produce succinct, shorthand descriptive or interpretive labels for pieces of information that may be of relevance to the research question(s). It is recommended that the researcher work systematically through the entire dataset, attending to each data item with equal consideration, and identifying aspects of data items that are interesting and may be informative in developing themes. Codes should be brief, but offer sufficient detail to be able to stand alone and inform of the underlying commonality among constituent data items in relation to the subject of the research (Braun and Clarke 2012 ; Braun et al. 2016 ).

A brief excerpt of the preliminary coding process of one participant’s interview transcript is presented in Box 2. The preliminary iteration of coding was conducted using the ‘comments’ function in Microsoft Word (2016). This allowed codes to be noted in the side margin, while also highlighting the area of text assigned to each respective code. This is a relatively straightforward example with no double-codes or overlap in data informing different codes, as new codes begin where previous codes end. The code C5 offers an exemplar of the provision of sufficient detail to explain what I interpreted from the related data item. A poor example of this code would be to say “the wellbeing guidelines are not relatable” or “not relatable for students”. Each of these examples lack context. Understanding codes written in this way would be contingent upon knowledge of the underlying data extract. The code C8 exemplifies this issue. It is unclear if the positivity mentioned relates to the particular participant, their colleagues, or their students. This code was subsequently redefined in later iterations of coding. It can also be seen in this short example that the same code has been produced for both C4 and C9. This code was prevalent throughout the entire dataset and would subsequently be informative in the development of a theme.

Extract of preliminary coding

Any item of data that might be useful in addressing the research question(s) should be coded. Through repeated iterations of coding and further familiarisation, the researcher can identify which codes are conducive to interpreting themes and which can be discarded. I would recommend that the researcher document their progression through iterations of coding to track the evolution of codes and indeed prospective themes. RTA is a recursive process and it is rare that a researcher would follow a linear path through the six phases (Braun and Clarke 2014 ). It is very common for the researcher to follow a particular train of thought when coding, only to encounter an impasse where several different interpretations of the data come to light. It may be necessary to explore each of these prospective options to identify the most appropriate path to follow. Tracking the evolution of codes will not only aid transparency, but will afford the researcher signposts and waypoints to which they may return should a particular approach to coding prove unfruitful. I tracked the evolution of my coding process in a spreadsheet, with data items documented in the first column and iterations of codes in each successive column. I found it useful to highlight which codes were changed in each successive iteration. Table 1 provides an excerpt of a Microsoft Excel (2016) spreadsheet that was established to track iterations of coding and document the overall analytical process. All codes developed during the first iteration of coding were transferred into this spreadsheet along with a label identifying the respective participant. Subsequent iterations of coding were documented in this spreadsheet. The original transcripts were still regularly consulted to assess existing codes and examine for the interpretation of new codes as further familiarity with the data developed. Column one presents a reference number for the data item that was coded, while column two indicates the participant who provided each data item. Column three presents the data item that was coded. Columns four and five indicate the iteration of the coding process to be the third and fourth iteration, respectively. Codes revised between iterations three and four are highlighted.

With regard to data item one, I initially considered that a narrative might develop exploring a potential discrepancy in levels of training received by wellbeing educators and non-wellbeing educators. In early iterations of coding, I adopted a convention of coding training-related information with reference to the wellbeing or non-wellbeing status of the participant. While this discrepancy in levels of training remained evident throughout the dataset, I eventually deemed it unnecessary to pursue interpretation of the data in this way. This coding convention was abandoned at iteration four in favour of the pre-existing generalised code “insufficient training in wellbeing curriculum”. With data item three, I realised that the code was descriptive at a semantic level, but not very informative. Upon re-evaluating this data item, I found the pre-existing code “lack of clarity in assessing student wellbeing” to be much more appropriate and representative of what the participant seemed to be communicating. Finally, I realised that the code for data item five was too specific to this particular data item. No other data item shared this code, which would preclude this code (and data item) from consideration when construction themes. I decided that this item would be subsumed under the pre-existing code “more training is needed for wellbeing promotion”.

The process of generating codes is non-prescriptive regarding how data is segmented and itemised for coding, and how many codes or what type of codes (semantic or latent) are interpreted from an item of data. The same data item can be coded both semantically and latently if deemed necessary. For example, when discussing how able they felt to attend to their students’ wellbeing needs, one participant stated “…if someone’s struggling a bit with their schoolwork and it’s getting them down a bit, it’s common sense that determines what we say to them or how we approach them. And it might help to talk, but I don’t know that it has a lasting effect” [2B]. Here, I understood that the participant was explicitly sharing the way in which they address their students’ wellbeing concerns, but also that the participant was implying that this commonsense approach might not be sufficient. As such, this data item was coded both semantically as “educators rely on common sense when attending to wellbeing issues”, and latently as “common sense inadequate for wellbeing promotion”. Both codes were revised later in the analysis. However, this example illustrates the way in which any data item can be coded in multiple ways and for multiple meanings. There is also no upper or lower limit regarding how many codes should be interpreted. What is important is that, when the dataset is fully coded and codes are collated, sufficient depth exists to examine the patterns within the data and the diversity of the positions held by participants. It is, however, necessary to ensure that codes pertain to more than one data item (Braun and Clarke 2012 ).

3.2.3 Phase three: generating themes

This phase begins when all relevant data items have been coded. The focus shifts from the interpretation of individual data items within the dataset, to the interpretation of aggregated meaning and meaningfulness across the dataset. The coded data is reviewed and analysed as to how different codes may be combined according to shared meanings so that they may form themes or sub-themes. This will often involve collapsing multiple codes that share a similar underlying concept or feature of the data into one single code. Equally, one particular code may turn out to be representative of an over-arching narrative within the data and be promoted as a sub-theme or even a theme (Braun and Clarke 2012 ). It is important to re-emphasise that themes do not reside in the data waiting to be found. Rather, the researcher must actively construe the relationship among the different codes and examine how this relationship may inform the narrative of a given theme. Construing the importance or salience of a theme is not contingent upon the number of codes or data items that inform a particular theme. What is important is that the pattern of codes and data items communicates something meaningful that helps answer the research question(s) (Braun and Clarke 2013 ).

Themes should be distinctive and may even be contradictory to other themes, but should tie together to produce a coherent and lucid picture of the dataset. The researcher must be able and willing to let go of codes or prospective themes that may not fit within the overall analysis. It may be beneficial to construct a miscellaneous theme (or category) to contain all the codes that do not appear to fit in among any prospective themes. This miscellaneous theme may end up becoming a theme in its own right, or may simple be removed from the analysis during a later phase (Braun and Clarke 2012 ). Much the same as with codes, there is no correct amount of themes. However, with too many themes the analysis may become unwieldy and incoherent, whereas too few themes can result in the analysis failing to explore fully the depth and breadth of the data. At the end of this stage, the researcher should be able to produce a thematic map (e.g. a mind map or affinity map) or table that collates codes and data items relative to their respective themes (Braun and Clarke 2012 , 2020 ).

At this point in the analysis, I assembled codes into initial candidate themes. A thematic map of the initial candidate themes can be seen in Fig.  1 . The theme “best practice in wellbeing promotion” was clearly definable, with constituent coded data presenting two concurrent narratives. These narratives were constructed as two separate sub-themes, which emphasised the involvement of the entire school staff and the active pursuit of practical measures in promoting student wellbeing, respectively. The theme “recognising student wellbeing” was similarly clear. Again, I interpreted a dichotomy of narratives. However, in this case, the two narratives seemed to be even more synergetic. The two sub-themes for “best practice…” highlighted two independently informative factors in best practice. Here, the sub-themes are much more closely related, with one sub-theme identifying factors that may inhibit the development of student wellbeing, while the second sub-theme discusses factors that may improve student wellbeing. At this early stage in the analysis, I was considering that this sub-theme structure might also be used to delineate the theme “recognising educator wellbeing”. Finally, the theme “factors influencing wellbeing promotion” collated coded data items that addressed inhibitive factors with regard to wellbeing promotion. These factors were conceptualised as four separate sub-themes reflecting a lack of training, a lack of time, a lack of appropriate value for wellbeing promotion, and a lack of knowledge of supporting wellbeing-related documents. While it was useful to bring all of this information together under one theme, even at this early stage it was evident that this particular theme was very dense and unwieldy, and would likely require further revision.

Initial thematic map indicating four candidate themes

3.2.4 Phase four: reviewing potential themes

This phase requires the researcher to conduct a recursive review of the candidate themes in relation to the coded data items and the entire dataset (Braun and Clarke 2012 , 2020 ). At this phase, it is not uncommon to find that some candidate themes may not function well as meaningful interpretations of the data, or may not provide information that addresses the research question(s). It may also come to light that some of the constituent codes and/or data items that inform these themes may be incongruent and require revision. Braun and Clarke ( 2012 , p. 65) proposed a series of key questions that the researcher should address when reviewing potential themes. They are:

Is this a theme (it could be just a code)?

If it is a theme, what is the quality of this theme (does it tell me something useful about the data set and my research question)?

What are the boundaries of this theme (what does it include and exclude)?

Are there enough (meaningful) data to support this theme (is the theme thin or thick)?

Are the data too diverse and wide ranging (does the theme lack coherence)?

The analysis conducted at this phase involves two levels of review. Level one is a review of the relationships among the data items and codes that inform each theme and sub-theme. If the items/codes form a coherent pattern, it can be assumed that the candidate theme/sub-theme makes a logical argument and may contribute to the overall narrative of the data. At level two, the candidate themes are reviewed in relation to the data set. Themes are assessed as to how well they provide the most apt interpretation of the data in relation to the research question(s). Braun and Clarke have proposed that, when addressing these key questions, it may be useful to observe Patton’s ( 1990 ) ‘dual criteria for judging categories’ (i.e. internal homogeneity and external heterogeneity). The aim of Patton’s dual criteria would be to observe internal homogeneity within themes at the level one review, while observing external heterogeneity among themes at the level two review. Essentially, these two levels of review function to demonstrate that items and codes are appropriate to inform a theme, and that a theme is appropriate to inform the interpretation of the dataset (Braun and Clarke 2006 ). The outcome of this dual-level review is often that some sub-themes or themes may need to be restructured by adding or removing codes, or indeed adding or removing themes/sub-themes. The finalised thematic framework that resulted from the review of the candidate themes can be seen in Fig.  2 .

Finalised thematic map demonstrating five themes

During the level one review, inspection of the prospective sub-theme “sources of negative affect” in relation to the theme “recognising educator wellbeing” resulted in a new interpretation of the constituent coded data items. Participants communicated numerous pre-existing work-related factors that they felt had a negative impact upon their wellbeing. However, it was also evident that participants felt the introduction of the new wellbeing curriculum and the newly mandated task of formally attending to student wellbeing had compounded these pre-existing issues. While pre-existing issues and wellbeing-related issues were both informative of educators’ negative affect, the new interpretation of this data informed the realisation of two concurrent narratives, with wellbeing-related issues being a compounding factor in relation to pre-existing issues. This resulted in the “sources of negative affect” sub-theme being split into two new sub-themes; “work-related negative affect” and “the influence of wellbeing promotion”. The “actions to improve educator wellbeing” sub-theme was folded into these sub-themes, with remedial measures for each issue being discussed in respective sub-themes.

During the level two review, my concerns regarding the theme “factors inhibiting wellbeing promotion” were addressed. With regard to Braun and Clarke’s key questions, it was quite difficult to identify the boundaries of this theme. It was also particularly dense (or too thick) and somewhat incoherent. At this point, I concluded that this theme did not constitute an appropriate representation of the data. Earlier phases of the analysis were reiterated and new interpretations of the data were developed. This candidate theme was subsequently broken down into three separate themes. While the sub-themes of this candidate theme were, to a degree, informative in the development of the new themes, the way in which the constituent data was understood was fundamentally reconceptualised. The new theme, entitled “the influence of time”, moves past merely describing time constraints as an inhibitive factor in wellbeing promotion. A more thorough account of the bi-directional nature of time constraints was realised, which acknowledged that previously existing time constraints affected wellbeing promotion, while wellbeing promotion compounded previously existing time constraints. This added an analysis of the way in which the introduction of wellbeing promotion also produced time constraints in relation to core curricular activities.

The candidate sub-themes “lack of training” and “knowledge of necessary documents” were re-evaluated and considered to be topical rather than thematic aspects of the data. Upon further inspection, I felt that the constituent coded data items of these two sub-themes were informative of a single narrative of participants attending to their students’ wellbeing in an atheoretical manner. As such, these two candidate sub-themes were folded into each other to produce the theme “incompletely theorised agreements”. Finally, the level two review led me to the conclusion that the full potential of the data that informed the candidate sub-theme “lack of value of wellbeing promotion” was not realised. I found that a much richer understanding of this data was possible, which was obscured by the initial, relatively simplistic, descriptive account offered. An important distinction was made, in that participants held differing perceptions of the value attributed to wellbeing promotion by educators and by students. Further, I realised that educators’ perceptions of wellbeing promotion were not necessarily negative and should not be exclusively presented as an inhibitive factor in wellbeing promotion. A new theme, named “the axiology of wellbeing” and informed by the sub-themes “students’ valuation of wellbeing promotion” and “educators’ valuation of wellbeing promotion”, was developed to delineate this multifaceted understanding of participants’ accounts of the value of wellbeing promotion.

It is quite typical at this phase that codes, as well as themes, may be revised or removed to facilitate the most meaningful interpretation of the data. As such, it may be necessary to reiterate some of the activities undertaken during phases two and three of the analysis. It may be necessary to recode some data items, collapse some codes into one, remove some codes, or promote some codes as sub-themes or themes. For example, when re-examining the data items that informed the narrative of the value ascribed to wellbeing promotion, I observed that participants offered very different perceptions of the value ascribed by educators and by students. To pursue this line of analysis, numerous codes were reconceptualised to reflect the two different perspectives. Codes such as “positivity regarding the wellbeing curriculum” were split into the more specified codes “student positivity regarding the wellbeing curriculum” and “educator positivity regarding the wellbeing curriculum”. Amending codes in this way ultimately contributed to the reinterpretation of the data and the development of the finalised thematic map.

As with all other phases, it is very important to track and document all of these changes. With regard to some of the more significant changes (removing a theme, for example), I would recommend making notes on why it might be necessary to take this action. The aim of this phase is to produce a revised thematic map or table that captures the most important elements of the data in relation to the research question(s).

3.2.5 Phase five: defining and naming theme

At this phase, the researcher is tasked with presenting a detailed analysis of the thematic framework. Each individual theme and sub-theme is to be expressed in relation to both the dataset and the research question(s). As per Patton’s ( 1990 ) dual criteria, each theme should provide a coherent and internally consistent account of the data that cannot be told by the other themes. However, all themes should come together to create a lucid narrative that is consistent with the content of the dataset and informative in relation to the research question(s). The names of the themes are also subject to a final revision (if necessary) at this point.

Defining themes requires a deep analysis of the underlying data items. There will likely be many data items underlying each theme. It is at this point that the researcher is required to identify which data items to use as extracts when writing up the results of the analysis. The chosen extracts should provide a vivid and compelling account of the arguments being made by a respective theme. Multiple extracts should be used from the entire pool of data items that inform a theme in order to convey the diversity of expressions of meaning across these data items, and to demonstrate the cohesion of the theme’s constituent data items. Furthermore, each of the reported data extracts should be subject to a deep analysis, going beyond merely reporting what a participant may have said. Each extract should be interpreted in relation to its constitutive theme, as well as the broader context of the research question(s), creating an analytic narrative that informs the reader what is interesting about this extract and why (Braun and Clarke 2012 ).

Data extracts can be presented either illustratively, providing a surface-level description of what participants said, or analytically, interrogating what has been interpreted to be important about what participants said and contextualising this interpretation in relation to the available literature. If the researcher were aiming to produce a more illustrative write-up of the analysis, relating the results to the available literature would tend to be held until the ‘discussion’ section of the report. If the researcher were aiming to produce an analytical write-up, extracts would tend to be contextualised in relation to the literature as and when they are reported in the ‘results’ section (Braun and Clarke 2013 ; Terry et al. 2017 ). While an illustrative write-up of RTA results is completely acceptable, the researcher should remain cognisant that the narrative of the write-up should communicate the complexities of the data, while remaining “embedded in the scholarly field” (Braun and Clarke 2012 , p. 69). RTA is an interpretive approach to analysis and, as such, the overall report should go beyond describing the data, providing theoretically informed arguments as to how the data addresses the research question(s). To this end, a relatively straightforward test can reveal a researcher’s potential proclivity towards one particular reporting convention: If an extract can be removed and the write-up still makes sense, the reporting style is illustrative; if an extract is removed and the write-up no longer makes sense, the reporting style is analytical (Terry et al. 2017 ).

The example in Box 3 contains a brief excerpt from the sub-theme “the whole-school approach”, which demonstrates the way in which a data extract may be reported in an illustrative manner. Here, the narrative discussed the necessity of having an ‘appropriate educator’ deliver the different aspects of the wellbeing curriculum. One participant provided a particularly useful real-world example of the potential negative implications of having ‘the wrong person’ for this job in relation to physical education (one of the aspects of the wellbeing curriculum). This data extract very much informed the narrative and illustrated participants’ arguments regarding the importance of choosing an appropriate educator for the job.

Example of data extract reported illustratively

In Box 4, an example is offered of how a data extract may be reported in an analytical manner. This excerpt is also taken from the sub-theme “the whole-school approach”, and also informs the ‘appropriate educator for the job’ narrative. Here, however, sufficient evidence has already been established to illustrate the perspectives of the participants. The report turns to a deeper analysis of what has been said and how it has been said. Specifically, the way in which participants seemed to construe an ‘appropriate educator’ was examined and related to existing literature. The analytical interpretation of this data extract (and others) proposes interesting implications regarding the way in which participants constructed their schema of an ‘appropriate educator’.

Example of data extract reported analytically

The names of themes are also subject to a final review (if necessary) at this point. Naming themes may seem trivial and might subsequently receive less attention than it actually requires. However, naming themes is a very important task. Theme names are the first indication to the reader of what has been captured from the data. Names should be concise, informative, and memorable. The overriding tendency may be to create names that are descriptors of the theme. Braun and Clarke ( 2013 , 2014 , 2020 ) encourage creativity and advocate the use of catchy names that may more immediately capture the attention of the reader, while also communicating an important aspect of the theme. To this end, they suggest that it may be useful to examine data items for a short extract that could be used to punctuate the theme name.

3.2.6 Phase six: producing the report

The separation between phases five and six can often be blurry. Further, this ‘final’ phase would rarely only occur at the end of the analysis. As opposed to practices typical of quantitative research that would see the researcher conduct and then write up the analysis, the write-up of qualitative research is very much interwoven into the entire process of the analysis (Braun and Clarke 2012 ). Again, as with previous phases, this will likely require a recursive approach to report writing. As codes and themes change and evolve over the course of the analysis, so too can the write-up. Changes should be well documented by this phase and reflected in informal notes and memos, as well as a research journal that should be kept over the entire course of the research. Phase six then, can be seen as the completion and final inspection of the report that the researcher would most likely have begun writing before even undertaking their thematic analysis (e.g. a journal article or thesis/dissertation).

A useful task to address at this point would be to establish the order in which themes are reported. Themes should connect in a logical and meaningful manner, building a cogent narrative of the data. Where relevant, themes should build upon previously reported themes, while remaining internally consistent and capable of communicating their own individual narrative if isolated from other themes (Braun and Clarke 2012 ). I reported the theme “best practice in wellbeing promotion” first, as I felt it established the positivity that seemed to underlie the accounts provided by all of my participants. This theme was also strongly influence by semantic codes, with participants being very capable of describing what they felt would constitute ‘best practice’. I saw this as an easily digestible first theme to ease the reader into the wider analysis. It made sense to report “the axiology of wellbeing promotion” next. This theme introduced the reality that, despite an underlying degree of positivity, participants did indeed have numerous concerns regarding wellbeing promotion, and that participants’ attitudes were generally positive with a significant ‘but’. This theme provided good sign-posting for the next two themes that would be reported, which were “the influence of time” and “incompletely theorised agreements”, respectively. I reported “the influence of time” first, as this theme established how time constraints could negatively affect educator training, contributing to a context in which educators were inadvertently pushed towards adopting incompletely theorised agreements when promoting student wellbeing. The last theme to be reported was “recognising educator wellbeing”. As the purpose of the analysis was to ascertain the attitudes of educators regarding wellbeing promotion, it felt appropriate to offer the closing commentary of the analysis to educators’ accounts of their own wellbeing. This became particularly pertinent when the sub-themes were revised to reflect the influence of pre-existing work-related issues and the subsequent influence of wellbeing promotion.

An issue proponents of RTA may realise when writing up their analysis is the potential for incongruence between traditional conventions for report writing and the appropriate style for reporting RTA—particularly when adopting an analytical approach to reporting on data. The document structure for academic journal articles and Masters or PhD theses typically subscribe to the convention of reporting results of analyses in a ‘results’ section and then synthesising and contextualising the results of analyses in a ‘discussion’ section. Conversely, Braun and Clarke recommend synthesising and contextualising data as and when they are reported in the ‘results’ section (Braun and Clarke 2013 ; Terry et al. 2017 ). This is a significant departure from the traditional reporting convention, which researchers—particularly post-graduate students—may find difficult to reconcile. While Braun and Clarke do not explicitly address this potential issue, it is implicitly evident that they would advocate that researchers prioritise the appropriate reporting style for RTA and not cede to the traditional reporting convention.

4 Conclusion

Although Braun and Clarke are widely published on the topic of reflexive thematic analysis, confusion persists in the wider literature regarding the appropriate implementation of this approach. The aim of this paper has been to contribute to dispelling some of this confusion by provide a worked example of Braun and Clarke’s contemporary approach to reflexive thematic analysis. To this end, this paper provided instruction in how to address the theoretical underpinnings of RTA by operationalising the theoretical assumptions of the example data in relation to the study from which the data was taken. Clear instruction was also provided in how to conduct a reflexive thematic analysis. This was achieved by providing a detailed step-by-step guide to Braun and Clarke’s six-phase process, and by providing numerous examples of the implementation of each phase based on my own research. Braun and Clarke have made (and continue to make) an extremely valuable contribution to the discourse regarding qualitative analysis. I strongly recommended that any prospective proponents of RTA who may read this paper thoroughly examine Braun and Clarke’s full body of literature in this area, and aim to achieve an understanding of RTA’s nuanced position among the numerous different approaches to thematic analysis.

While the reconceptualisation of RTA as falling within the remit of a purely qualitative paradigm precipitates that the research fall on the constructionist end of this continuum, it is nevertheless good practice to explicate this theoretical position.

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Byrne, D. A worked example of Braun and Clarke’s approach to reflexive thematic analysis. Qual Quant 56 , 1391–1412 (2022). https://doi.org/10.1007/s11135-021-01182-y

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“Misunderstanding” and (mis)interpretation as strategic tools in intercultural interactions between preschool children

Misunderstandings in intercultural interactions are often taken as givens – unintentional side effects of coming to interactions with different languages and frames of reference – but also as givens that with enough effort and learning on the parts of participants might be repaired or even avoided. Researchers have warned, however, that assuming the intercultural-ness of these interactions to be the a priori cause of misunderstandings ignores possibly more complex, and less comfortable, explanations involving power relations and social identities. Drawing on data from a year-long ethnography of 11 Nepali- and Turkish-speaking children learning English in preschool in the United States, this paper argues that in some cases, it is less helpful to see intercultural-ness as a cause of misunderstanding than as an alibi for it. Through the lens of “strategic misunderstanding”, this paper shows how one English-speaking student exploited the gap in language ability and in symbolic power between himself and an English language learner (ELL) peer in order to fake misunderstanding and thus accomplish his own social aims.

1 Introduction: Are intercultural misunderstandings always intercultural… or always real misunderstandings?

In his 1994 piece, “Intercultural or not? Beyond celebration of cultural differences in miscommunication analysis,” Srikant Sarangi highlighted what he saw as one of the pitfalls of intercultural miscommunication work: Researchers, he said, had fallen into a circular trap. By classifying conversations as “intercultural” and then studying the miscommunications that occurred therein, researchers set themselves up to find (unsurprisingly) that the source of misunderstandings was cultural difference, sometimes manifested in linguistic and paralinguistic difference, as in Gumperz’ famous work on contextualization cues ( 1978 , 1982 , 1991 ). Sarangi argued that just because a misunderstanding occurs between people of different cultural backgrounds, one cannot unproblematically assume that culture is the cause. He underlined that, along with culture, speakers bring a host of other social identities, roles, and power relations to interactions, and in failing to examine these elements, researchers risk simplistic explanations based on cultural difference to the exclusion of less comfortable explanations involving power and inequality.

This paper examines one context of intercultural communication – a preschool classroom with a multilingual and multicultural student population – bearing Sarangi’s caution in mind: Rather than assuming that cultural and linguistic difference are the source of miscommunication, I argue that they can be an alibi for it, permitting students to (mis)understand and (mis)interpret in ways that would not happen between two speakers of the same language. This argument, however, rests not only on questioning the role of the “intercultural” in intercultural misunderstandings, but also on questioning the idea of “misunderstanding” itself. A look at the word “misunderstand” in the Merriam-Webster dictionary produces the definition, “(v.) fail to interpret or understand (something) correctly” (“Misunderstand,” n.d.). (“Fail” is defined as “(v.) be unsuccessful in achieving one’s goal.” [“Fail,” n.d].) A misunderstanding is therefore, by definition, an unintended and undesirable result, a lack of success at achieving the aim understanding. And indeed, in everyday talk, when misunderstandings occur, they are assumed to occur as mistakes or missteps, accidental outcomes other than what interlocutors intended.

Yet, some scholars have pointed out that misunderstandings might serve an interactional purpose and that they might therefore be carried out intentionally to strategic ends. In this paper, I draw on Cameron’s ( 1998 ) and Hinnenkamp’s ( 2003 ) ideas of “strategic misunderstanding” to show how preschool students employ misunderstanding and misinterpretation as intentional social tools in ways that are enabled, but not caused, by the intercultural context.

2 Approach and organization of the paper

Hinnenkamp lamented, “Rarely do we come across studies on misunderstandings as (pragma-) linguistic phenomenon in their own right. Even rarer are attempts to ground misunderstanding empirically. An absolute rarity is a real-life perspective on dialogue beyond experimental and fictional settings” ( 2003 : 57). While the present paper is indeed empirically grounded, it is also theoretically grounded. It does not report the findings from a study of misunderstanding, in the sense that I set out to collect data on the topic and then catalogued and coded types of misunderstandings to produce this report. Rather this paper is an attempt to “think with theory” ( Jackson and Mazzei 2012 ) about one particular interaction within the much larger data set. This interaction was one of a small handful of interactions that I flagged as “troubling.” These extracts were troubling in that, at first glance, they seemed to be misunderstandings between English speakers and English learners, yet, unlike other misunderstandings in this classroom – which interlocutors either worked to repair or simply ignored – these troubling misunderstandings appeared to be sustained by one of the speakers. This paper therefore represents a mutual “plugging in” ( Jackson and Mazzei 2012 ) of data and theory to produce one potential reading as to what was occurring in this “troubling” data.

I begin, however, by describing the larger research project that this paper comes from, including the context, participants, and kinds of data collected. I then turn to a brief review of literature on legitimate misunderstandings and the ways that people, including preschoolers, draw attention to and resolve them. I illustrate this with an example from the present research context. I then explore, and theorize, another way of drawing attention to and resolving legitimate misunderstandings in the classroom in question: through the help of the third person who takes up the role of interpreter and “speaks for” the misunderstood speaker. Finally, having established what legitimate misunderstanding and repair look like in this multicultural, multilingual context, I outline Cameron’s ( 1998 ) and Hinnenkamp’s ( 2003 ) ideas of “strategic misunderstanding” and use their theories to tease apart one of the troubling extracts, which, on the surface, looked like a true misunderstanding, but which is better explained by seeing it as strategic use of misunderstanding and misinterpretation.

3 Research context, participants, and sources of data

This paper comes from a larger ethnographic study of English language learners (ELLs) in a prekindergarten classroom in the United States. The prekindergarten classroom was in a city located in the former “Rust Belt,” where the last great wave of immigration took place nearly a century ago when the steel industry was booming. Since then, with the collapse of local steel production, the city had become “mostly white, slow growing” ( Frey 2000 : 21) and decidedly English-speaking. However, with a low cost of living, the city had more recently become a good place for resettling refugees. The classroom I visited opened in fall 2012 (the start of my data collection) to accommodate the growing number of resettled refugee families with young children in the neighborhood. The two teachers – white English speakers, both old enough to have adult children – had many years of collective experience with young children, but were new to teaching ELLs. The children in the class, ages three and four, came from two primary language backgrounds, English (n=6) and Nepali (n=10), while one student spoke Turkish at home. Two of the Nepali-speaking students also spoke some English, but the other eight and the Turkish speaker were almost complete beginners. The study followed students one full day per week across the school year, tracing the joint emergence of their social positioning and second language development. During my time in the classroom, I observed/participated, took field notes, and video recorded for around 2 hours per visit, for a total of 162 contact hours and 40 hours of video. I also interviewed teachers, parents, and students. The general claims that I make in this paper as to the social context surrounding the transcripts presented are therefore grounded in prolonged contact with students and teachers, as well as larger analysis about language learning and classroom social structure. The transcripts themselves come from video, audio, and field notes.

4 Legitimate misunderstanding and repair

Because strategic misunderstanding capitalizes on the structure of legitimate misunderstandings, I begin with a review of how basic misunderstanding and repair work. I discuss how this extends to young children and provide an illustrative example from the classroom in question. I then explain a second approach to dealing with misunderstanding that teachers and children used in this classroom, and provide a theoretical account of both kinds of clarification. This framework for how misunderstanding, clarification, and repair work will allow me to show exactly how strategic misunderstanding poaches on this framework.

4.1 Legitimate misunderstanding and repair: A brief review

Researchers interested in communication have long studied misunderstanding as a path to understanding both how smooth communication works as well as how misunderstandings occur and are then managed by interlocutors ( Humphreys-Jones 1986 ). Some of these accounts have aimed to create taxonomies of types of misunderstandings, based on various aspects or features, such as the level of language at which they occur (phonology, semantics, etc) (e. g. Banzanella and Damiano 1999 ), or how aware participants are, given the underlying reasons for the misunderstanding (e. g. Coupland et al. 1991 ). At the same time, many of these analyses of misunderstanding – particularly those from the conversation analytic tradition (e. g. Schegloff 1987 ) – also provide detailed accounts of how misunderstandings unfold, are noticed, pointed out, and addressed.

By all accounts, misunderstanding/repair sequences begin with someone noticing the trouble. (Although of course, misunderstandings may occur without anyone noticing, these do not involve repair or clarification sequences and thus are less relevant for our purposes here.) In what Schegloff et al. (1977) called “other-repair” and Hirst et al. (1994) called an “other-misunderstanding,” a hearer notices trouble – that she has not heard clearly, perhaps, or that what she has heard does not make sense within the conversation – and asks for clarification right away (“Pardon?” or “Did you say b ees ?”). The speaker may then clarify, constituting what Schegloff (1992) called a “third position repair”: the first position was the “trouble spot” ( Schegloff et al. 1977 ), the second position was the request for clarification, and the third is the repair (“No, no, beads ”). Third position repair can be also initiated by the original speaker, as a “self-misunderstanding” ( Hirst et al. 1994 ). This occurs when the original speaker (position 1) notices that his interlocutor’s reaction (position 2) is incongruent with what the speaker meant and infers from this logical breakdown that interlocutor misheard or made the wrong interpretation ( Banzanella and Damiano 1999 ). In both cases, after the misunderstanding-repair sequence is complete, the speakers resume the conversation.

Repairs may also occur in the fourth position, if speaker 2 notices an incongruence between her second position interpretation and speaker 1’s subsequent third position turn, or in subsequent positions, if misunderstandings take several turns to notice, or if it takes several turns to navigate to the repair sequence. The third position repair – trouble spot (1), clarification request (2), repair (3) – is the most common, however ( Banzanella and Damiano 1999 ), and is the basis for the discussion in this paper.

4.2 Preschoolers doing legitimate misunderstanding and repair

Work that has approached children and misunderstanding from a developmental perspective has found that preschoolers are quite capable of doing this kind of clarification and repair work. Children as young as 2;6 (2 years, 6 months) are able to notice misunderstandings in conversation, both on their part and by others, and are able to respond to them, through self-repair as well as through requests for clarification ( Garvey 1984 ; Golnikoff 1993 ; Forrester and Cherington 2009 ). Although there has been some debate as to what very young children’s motivations are for repairing misunderstandings – Shatz and O’Reilly (1990) , for instance, argued that children were more likely to initiate repairs when making requests than assertions – there is not debate over whether they can engage in them at all. And while much of the research on young children and repair examines children speaking with adults, other work also shows children engaging in repair with one another. In one study of spontaneously occurring conversation between 2;8- to 3;6-year-old peers, Aviezer (2003) found that “young children are sensitive to conversational breakdown and recognize different kinds of communicative failure as well as being able to initiate effective clarification procedures as an invitation for others’ repair” (134). Although older children engaged in clarification sequences more frequently, all of the children in his study recognized misunderstandings and engaged in repair, particularly in clarification sequences. From a developmental perspective, therefore, the students who produced the conversations in the present paper (ages 3;6 to 4;10) would be able to engage in negotiation of misunderstandings and repair. As the following example illustrates, that is indeed the case.

4.3 Preschoolers doing legitimate misunderstanding and repair: An example

In this example, the interlocutors are a 4-year-old Nepali speaker, Kritika, and her English-speaking teacher, Lucia. The interaction began as Lucia overheard three students speaking in Nepali about a drawing. Hoping to encourage their use of English, she asked the students what they were saying. Kritika answered, but Lucia did not understand her response, so Lucia and Kritika engaged in a clarification and repair sequence. The multimodal transcript highlights Kritika’s use of multiple modes to help Lucia arrive at her intended meaning. The shape and direction of the over-image text show the intonation of Kritika’s speech. The captions show the timestamp and describe the action taking place.

This example shows the kind of misunderstanding/clarification/repair sequence outlined above, in which one interlocutor notices that she may have misheard, she checks with the speaker, the speaker attempts to clarify, and they go back and forth until understanding is reached. Interactions like this one show students and teachers knowing how to “do” – jointly produce – misunderstanding/repair routines. These kinds of misunderstandings/repairs exemplify the cooperative spirit assumed in much work on miscommunication in general and on intercultural miscommunication in particular: Misunderstandings happen, but with enough goodwill and effort, communication can proceed.

4.4 Repairing misunderstanding through third party interpretation or “speaking for”

A different way of resolving misunderstanding in this classroom involved the use of a third, mediating interlocutor. This practice originated with the teachers: Because of the makeup of the classroom, at the start of the year, the teachers had significant trouble understanding many of the students, and thus relied on peers who already spoke some English to help by interpreting, or clarifying what a student said. This did not necessarily mean translating from Nepali to English. Often it meant simply repeating what a student had said, but in clearer English. Like the third position repair sequences outline above, these interactions had a routine format. A student would speak to the teacher (position 1), the teacher would realize she did not understand and would call another student to help (position 2), and the interpreter would clarify (position 3). The position 2 requests for clarification took a routine format: “Dinesh, what’s Monal saying?”; “Dinesh, help me out,”; “Dinesh, I can’t make out what Maiya is saying. Can you help me?” (Field Notes, October 10, 2012). The student, in these cases Dinesh, would typically reply in position 3 in a format for reporting speech – “She’s saying ‘More pineapple!’” – and the interaction would continue. (I label these examples collectively Example 2 ).

The role of interpreter was a powerful one, particularly when it served as gatekeeper (for instance, of access to the teachers), and sometimes students stepped into the interpreter role of their own accord, as Kritika did in the following interaction. This conversation took place just after morning circle time (the time when the whole class met to talk about the day ahead), as Hande, a Turkish speaker, was attempting to tell the teacher where she intended to play for the next hour of the day.

Although Hande did not acknowledge it herself, Kritika correctly interpreted where Hande wanted to play. This was not lost on Lucia, who smiled and nodded knowingly at Kritika in line 12, after observing Hande’s choice. Whether the interpreter was invited by the teacher or took up the role on her own, her responsibility was to convey the words of a student who was unable (or who the teacher saw as unable) to engage in the clarification sequence herself.

4.5 The participation framework of Speaking For

What unites the cases of two-party clarification/repair and three-party clarification/repair is that both involve the act of Speaking For another person. In the “sun” clarification sequence (Example 1), for instance, Lucia repeated what she believed she heard; in the Dinesh examples (Example 2) and the “sand” example (Example 3), the interpreter recast what he believed he heard in a way that clarified it for the original, intended hearer. In both cases, this voicing of another speaker’s words somewhat complicates the typical notion of speaker, a person whose words represent his own ideas and intentions, and hearer, the intended audience for those ideas.

Goffman (1981) deconstructed the roles of speaker and hearer in ways that are useful here. He argued that “speaker” and “hearer” do not address all of the ways of being a speaker and hearer, particularly in multi-party interactions. Rather than “hearer”, he proposed to distinguish between official audience members (“addressee(s)”, “unaddressed intended hearers”, “intended hearers who are not listening”, etc.) and unofficial hearers (such as “overhearers”, “eavesdroppers”, “bystanders”). He also dissected the role of speaker into three “production formats”: animator (the mouthpiece for the words), author (the creator of the words being spoken), and principal (the one whose interests or beliefs are conveyed by the words being spoken). Goffman explained that all three production formats can be united in one person (as when Kritika declared, “Sun”), or they can be distributed among different people (as when Kritika said “sand,” animating Hande’s words). These ways of being speaker and hearer, when configured in various arrangements, form different participation frameworks. The participant framework of Speaking For , for instance, was a common one in this classroom, and was invoked specifically as a way to repair misunderstanding.

To revisit the examples of interpretation (Examples 2 and 3) then through Goffman’s production formats, Maiya (looking for more pineapple) and Hande (looking to play with the sand) were the authors, animators, and principals behind their original utterances. When they ran into trouble, however, their words were re-animated by another speaker for clarification. Dinesh said “She’s saying ‘More pineapple!” and Kritika said, simply, “Sand.” Dinesh and Kritika were not the authors of the words, nor were they invested, as principals, in the message the words conveyed; they only served as their animators. In terms of recipient formats, Dinesh and Kritika, although they certainly heard the original utterances, were not original addressees. Dinesh was brought in as an unaddressed (but intended) hearer, while Kritika was a bystander who stepped in of her own accord. In both cases, they functioned as a stand-in understander (for an addressed non-understander) and then a helpful mouthpiece.

Even in the case of a two-party interaction, we can understand the clarification sequence as a change in participant framework, from standard conversation – in which speakers function as animators, authors, and principals of their own utterances and hearers function as official addressees – to a Speaking For framework, in which one person becomes an animator for the other in order to clarify what was said. In Example 1, for instance, when Teacher Lucia asked, “Song?” and then “Sauna?,” in each case, she was animating (what she thought were) Kritika’s words.

4.6 Speaking For as double-voiced discourse

As helpful as Goffman’s categories are for understanding each participant’s role in these misunderstanding/repair sequences, this dismantling of speaker and hearer also risks oversimplification. Although Speaking For indeed involved animating another person’s words, in another sense, it also meant issuing a response to those words and, in that response, a social positioning. [1] In the case of the “sun/sauna” misunderstanding, for instance, when Lucia said “sauna,” she was not only re-animating what she thought Kritika said, she was also responding that she had not understood, but that she wanted to understand. Additionally, in making this response, she positioned Kritika as a speaker who was difficult to understand, but also worth understanding, despite it taking a bit of work. Speaking For can therefore be seen as what Bakhtin (1981) called double-voiced discourse , or language that “serves two speakers at the same time and expresses simultaneously two different intentions” (324). In the original focus of Bakhtin’s theory of double-voiced discourse – the novel – the two voices are those of the speaking character and of the author, expressing both the character’s intention and the author’s. In the examples here, the two voices belong to the author of the original words and to their re-animator. Thus, when Kritika told the teacher, “Sand,” on Hande’s behalf, she not only animated Hande’s words and shared Hande’s intention with the teacher, she simultaneously conveyed her attentiveness and helpfulness and positioned herself as a capable interpreter, able to understand and to convey a message more clearly than the original speaker. She also, by the very act of Speaking For (and whether she meant to or not), positioned Hande as a less capable communicator and someone in need of assistance.

4.7 Who could speak for whom?

Together, the concepts of participant framework, with accompanying production formats, and of double-voiced discourse provide a way to understand why not all students could take on all of the roles in the Speaking For frame. While anyone technically could repeat another’s words, animating those words required others to step into the accompanying roles of spoken-for-author and of-addressee-accepting-the-interpretation, and to acknowledge the animator as a legitimate interpreter. In the Dinesh examples (Example 2), it was the teacher who invited Dinesh into the role of interpreter, accepting the addressee role for herself. Additionally, students like Maiya and Monal accepted the help, and with it the positioning that came with each double-voiced act of Speaking For : The first voice was that of the Monal, for instance, looking to convey his request, the second was that of Dinesh, positioning himself as helpful, useful, and, importantly, as a more competent English speaker than Monal. Thus, the success of the entire operation depended on whether the addressee (here, teacher) saw the interpreter (here, Dinesh) as a more competent speaker than the spoken-for student (Monal or Maiya). Thus, the power to speak for another student was a relational power. It was not something that a student always possessed, nor did it depend on an objective measure of English proficiency; instead, a student’s ability to successfully claim the role of interpreter depended on his competence, first, relative to the spoken-for student and, second, in the eyes of an addressee. As such, not all students were able to successfully take up the interpreter role, as illustrated by the following transcript.

The teacher is coming around to the lunch tables with a carton of milk, offering to pour some for the students.

In refusing to engage in the participant frame of Speaking For that Pooja invoked, the teacher rejected Pooja’s double-voiced speech on both levels: as animation of Anita’s words (prompting Anita to speak for herself) and as a claim to Pooja’s relative competence and Anita’s relative incompetence as English speakers. Despite Anita’s willingness to be spoken for, it was the addressee – in this case, the teacher, one of the listeners with the most power to judge competence – whose ratification of the framework really mattered. In this classroom then, one kind of symbolic power was the power to invoke and draw others into a desired participant frame.

5 Strategic misunderstanding

Having established what legitimate, two- and three-party misunderstanding/clarification sequences looked like in the classroom, and how they functioned in terms of participation frameworks, positioning, and power, it is now possible to explore strategic misunderstandings, which function precisely because they masquerade as legitimate misunderstandings.

Hinnenkamp (2003) saw misunderstandings – legitimate or otherwise – not as facts, but as interactional achievements that only occur with recognition and action on the part of one or more interlocutors, Part of being a capable interlocutor, therefore, is knowing how to “do” misunderstandings: how to recognize them and draw attention to them, how to initiate repairs and execute them, and how to navigate back to the main conversation. Hinnenkamp proposed that this knowledge allows interlocutors to use the knowledge strategically: Knowing how to navigate a misunderstanding sequence gives one the potential to “abuse the misunderstanding sequence by extending it, or [to know] how a misunderstanding is creatively and playfully exploited” (70). Hinnenkamp differentiated, however, between “knowing how,” as in knowing how to “do” misunderstandings, and “knowing that,” as in knowing that when I declare not to have understood someone or that she has not understood me, it makes her seem lacking in some capacity, or perhaps buys me more floor time, or might even get a laugh. When an interlocutor uses misunderstandings to intentionally accomplish one of those consequences, it is not a true misunderstanding but a strategic misunderstanding , or “the analytic and conversational exploitation of a misunderstanding event” for one’s own purposes (71). Hinnenkamp also called these parasitic misunderstandings , since they take the shape of genuine misunderstandings, but are “counterproductive to clarification and solution” (71).

Hinnenkamp illustrated this kind of “misunderstanding” with close conversation analysis of a conversation between an international group of speakers attending a workshop in Germany. A Taiwanese speaker, “B”, described how, in Taiwan, if a meal is not warm, it does not count as a true meal. The conversation continued, and the speaker reiterated that when his wife, also Taiwanese, has not eaten something warm, she has not “eaten” at all: “Meine Frau, wenn sie nicht warm isst, sie hat nicht gegessen” (71) [My wife, if she has not had a warm meal, she just hasn’t eaten] (72, Hinnenkamp’s gloss). After he repeated this, another speaker, “H”, interjected: “Ach so, ich hab verstanden, wenn sie nich warm is , [2] dann sie hat sie nicht gegessen” (72, emphasis in original) [I see, I’d understood, if she isn’t warm, then she hasn’t eaten (72, Hinnenkamp’s gloss).] This was followed by uproarious laughter by many in the group, although not by B, the original speaker.

In this example, H’s purported “misunderstanding” rests on a German pun and slang. In German, “sie isst” [she eats] sounds the same as “sie ist” [she is], so that the phrase “Sie /Ist/ warm” could be interpreted not as, “She eats warm (food),” but as “She is warm” (which is also slang for ready for sex). Hinnenkamp argued, however. that there was no real way for H to have misunderstood, since all prior turns had been about eating and meals, and that H was instead exploiting a particular misunderstanding format (“Ohhh, I had understood x, but really you meant y”) to make a joke at the expense of poor B. In making this joke, H not only got a laugh, but also highlighted that B had been unclear and brought B’s private life and wife into the conversation in a way that B clearly had not intended. Thus, H’s joke-masquerading-as-misunderstanding was a strategic and parasitic use of the misunderstanding format, seriously threatening B’s face and scoring conversational points for H, indicated by the long laughter by the group.

5.1 Strategic misunderstanding, plus power and positioning

What Hinnenkamp’s analysis (or any other grounded only in linguistic data) cannot answer, however, is who can successfully use these strategies, when, and to what broader effects. Answering these questions requires looking beyond a single transcript to the larger social field in which the interaction occurred, including social relations, which are always also power relations. Deborah Cameron’s ( 1998 ) work – also about misunderstandings that are not really misunderstandings – introduces power into the equation. Cameron’s work on communication across genders began from a similar premise to Sarangi’s: that misunderstandings in cross-gender communication cannot automatically be assumed to be the result of gender difference, and while there are certainly examples of true misunderstandings across genders, many of the “misunderstandings” between men and women are not explainable by some inherent difference in how men and women speak, but by conflicts in interest.

One of Cameron’s examples of misunderstanding-that-is-really-conflict came from a magazine article containing advice for women about how to communicate at work. It gave the example of a female boss saying to her male subordinate, “Would you like to finish that report today?”, and later returning to find it unfinished. When the boss admonished the employee, he became defensive, saying that if he had to finish today, she should have said so. The advice column then explained that by being more direct (i. e. more like a man), and thus making it clear that the report must be finished that day, the boss could have avoided the misunderstanding. Cameron argued, however, that in the context of a workplace, where one’s personal preferences are generally less relevant than carrying out one’s duties, the man should have had no trouble inferring that his boss was not asking about his taste in work tasks, but requesting that he finish the report. Cameron provided two possible alternative interpretations: Either the man pretended to misunderstand (“misunderstood”), using the form of her indirect request as a cover and an alibi; or the man genuinely misunderstood her request as a suggestion, the result of a general refusal to see a woman as someone in a position to give him orders. Importantly, either way, his response evidences a dispute over power relations between employee and boss, male and female. In a different conversation, in which there was no conflict over power and authority, the man would likely have no trouble interpreting the question, “Would you like to finish that report today?”, as the strong-suggestion-verging-on-order that it was meant to be. As Cameron put it:

The same person can behave very differently depending on who he or she is talking to, from what position, and for what purpose; the utterance which is ‘misunderstood’ by an individual in one situation may be treated as perfectly transparent by the same individual in another. (451)

This is because all communication creates a frame in which speakers and hearers inhabit particular social positions (e. g. “I am the kind of person who can make requests like this and you are the kind of person who will carry them out”). And while the act of speaking sets up the frame and positions, the act of understanding is a decision whether or not to accept them. For Cameron, one of the ways to resist an undesirable frame or position is to “misunderstand:”

[L]aying claim to a particular intention or interpretation can function as a strategic move in a game of power and resistance. What is commonly called ‘misunderstanding’ may often be better analyzed as a kind of conflict; at bottom, conflict about the social positioning that is always implicitly presupposed when one person addresses another. (452)

From this perspective, a misunderstanding might be a refusal on the part of a hearer to participate in the conversational frame being set up by the speaker, or to be positioned in the way that the speaker’s utterance, if understood as it was intended, would position him.

In a sense then, strategic non-understanding, or refusing to comprehend in any way at all, could in the most basic way accomplish a rejection of a speaker’s positioning of a hearer (a woman does not turn when a man calls “baby” across the street; a preschool student looks blankly at another who says, “You took my toy.”) Strategic misunderstanding is slightly more complex in that it not only refutes the speaker’s proposed positionings, but offers alternate ones. In the “misunderstanding” between the boss and employee, for instance, the employee’s interpretation of the request (as a question) offers a different interpretation not only of the words, but also of the relationship between the speakers, as if to say, “You are not someone who gives me orders. I am not someone who has to take your requests too seriously.” Thus, while Hinnenkamp interpreted H’s false misunderstanding as a way to get the floor and get a laugh at B’s expense, we might also understand it as a conflict over positioning. Perhaps H did not see himself as the kind of stumbling, backtracking, clarification-seeking non-native speaker that he perceived B to be. Proposing a false misunderstanding, then, not only got a laugh, but also positioned him as facile with German and thus un like B.

Armed now with Hinnekamp’s and Cameron’s theories, as well as a theory of how legitimate misunderstanding and repair worked in this classroom, I now turn now to one of the troubling interactions that looked, at first glance, like a true misunderstanding and interpretation sequences but that, on closer inspection, was not.

5.2 Preschoolers doing “misunderstanding” and (mis)interpretation

The interaction involved Hande (age 4 ½), the sole Turkish speaker in the class and one of the students that the teachers worried about most. Throughout the year, peers saw Hande as a dispreferred playmate and teachers saw her as somewhat of a loner ( Bernstein 2014 ). Unlike the Nepali speakers, who could showcase their interactional and social competence in their L1, Hande could only interact in English. Although in the end this may have helped her grow more in terms of vocabulary and utterance complexity than the other ELLs ( Bernstein 2014 ), she struggled socially, and this led the teachers and classmates to see her as a less-than-competent communicator. The other participants in the interaction were Tommy (age 3½) a white, male, English speaker and Lucia, the teacher. The interaction occurred in April of the school year, at snack time, where Hande was sitting next to Tommy. Midway through snack time, over the course of several minutes, Tommy took all of the orange slices from the shared serving bowl, squeezed them one-by-one into his milk, and then soaked his napkin in it. As he wrung his napkin onto his plate and began lapping it up like a cat, Hande reached for an orange slice and found that the bowl was empty. Looking at the pile of the discarded orange peels and wet, balled-up napkins in front of Tommy, who was still licking milk and juice from his plate, Hande, appalled, called to the teachers to tattle on him. Researchers who have studied tattling have shown how children use it to resolve conflict and restore the moral order ( Danby and Theobold 2012 ; Kyratzis 2004 ) of the classroom, particularly when students do not have the resources, linguistic or otherwise, to resolve it themselves ( Cekaite 2012 ). This transcript begins with just such a tattle and with Teacher Lucia approaching the table.

At first reading, I flagged this conversation as a legitimate misunderstanding, because neither the teacher nor Tommy seemed to understand what Hande was trying to convey – that Tommy had made a huge mess and taken all of the oranges. Yet, Hande’s tattle was quite complex and complete, if non-standard, and the evidence of the mess – soaked napkins, discarded orange peels, milky orange juice running down Tommy’s chin – was visible. Thus it ought to have been quite clear to Tommy and Lucia what Hande was saying. Cameron’s perspective can help to explain what happened and how Tommy accomplished it.

A successful tattle involves drawing the teacher in as an objective party who neutrally hears out the conflict, through questions like “What happened?”, and then acts as judge and restorer of moral order through socializing questions, such as “How come X?” or “Why did you X”? ( Cekaite 2012 ; Sterponi 2003 ). In this case, Hande’s tattle in lines 1 and 2, which opened the interaction and continued into lines 4 and 5, did not cast Tommy in a very favorable light. The conflict of interests here is clear: If Hande’s message were to be understood as a tattle, Tommy would likely be punished; if Hande’s message was not understood as a tattle, Tommy might avoid punishment. In terms of positioning, Hande’s tattle would position her as a reliable source of information and a competent student – someone who knew how to appropriately behave at snack time – in contrast to Tommy, a misbehaver, and thus a less competent student. In line 6, the teacher began to take up the tattling framework, neutrally thanking Hande for the information and taking in the scene.

Tommy, aware of the consequences of Lucia’s understanding, made a strategic move. In line 7, he presented a counter-tattle based on a strategic misunderstanding of what Hande said: That by using the wrong pronoun ( she , rather than he ), Hande had in effect, called Tommy a girl. Suddenly, Hande was in the position of being accused, rather than accusing. Additionally, Tommy, in “failing” to understand Hande’s utterance, positioned her as linguistically incompetent (or worse, too stupid to know the difference between boys and girls), undermining her authority as speaker and thus delegitimizing her tattle. While the teacher (line 8) did not ratify Tommy’s new frame, she did not contradict it either, nor did she participate further in the tattling frame that Hande proposed. Tommy, still not satisfied that the teachers understood his “misunderstanding” of Hande’s utterance, moved in line 9 into the reported speech formula of (a false) speaking for . In a strategic (mis)interpretation, Tommy spoke for Hande using words that Hande never actually said, attempting to pass them off as an animation, rather than an authoring, thus roping Hande into being the principal behind them. In a parasitic double-voicing, he voiced his interest (highlighting how he was wronged, but also showing himself to be a reliable source, unlike Hande) and purported to voice hers as well (calling him a girl), when in reality his utterance presented only his view.

In line 10, there was a shift, as Lucia was finally drawn into the frame that Tommy set up. Although Lucia tried to defuse the situation, assuring Tommy that Hande did not really believe he was a girl and did not mean to call him one, in doing so, Lucia also positioned Hande as someone who did not know what she was saying, or a confused English learner. Lucia thus ratified a frame in which Hande’s tattle might be unreliable as well. Tommy persisted in his claim, and although, in line 13, Hande resisted his positioning of her as a confused or inaccurate speaker, to do so she was forced to abandon her own conversational frame and to enter Tommy’s, in which she and her credibility, rather than Tommy and his mess, were on trial. In the end, Lucia tried again to diffuse the situation – this time through distraction with bread and jelly – leaving Tommy unpunished, the orange bowl empty, and the power differential between Tommy and Hande intact. By accepting Tommy’s strategic and decidedly parasitic “misunderstanding” and (mis)interpretation as true misunderstanding and interpretation, Lucia underlined that, as an English speaker, Tommy had the power to redefine the situation and to be taken seriously in a way that Hande, a “mixed up” English learner, did not.

6 Discussion

The extracts presented here – the legitimate misunderstandings as well as the strategic one – illustrate that these preschool students were keenly aware of how to do misunderstanding. The strategic use of misunderstanding on the part of Tommy highlights that this knowledge extended beyond what Hinnenkamp called “knowing how” – knowing how misunderstandings work – to “knowing that” – knowing that misunderstandings have particular conversational effects. This “knowledge that” enabled Tommy to use misunderstanding to accomplish very specific conversational aims.

The examples (both legitimate and strategic) also make plain that misunderstanding and repair are not just conversational tools with conversational effects, but social tools with social effects, particularly in terms of how they position participants as competent or incompetent interlocutors. In a legitimate misunderstanding sequence between two speakers in an egalitarian relationship, if a hearer asks for clarification, the message is: “One of us has dropped the ball here – either me as a hearer or you as a speaker – but whatever you have to say, it is worth the effort to figure it out.” When the two speakers do not enter the interaction on equal linguistic footing, however, (as in the case of an ELL and an English speaker, for instance, in a classroom where English is the official language and the language of learning and authority), the social consequences of a misunderstanding are not equal either. If an ELL says, “What?,” she might be taken to mean “I have a hard time understanding,” and if someone says, “What?” to her, it may come mean “ You are hard to understand.”

Thus, when Lucia initiated the misunderstanding sequence with Kritika, whether she meant to or not, she positioned Kritika as hard-to-understand. Yet, simultaneously, her request for clarification positioned Kritika as having something important to say and as worth understanding. And by engaging in clarification with Kritika herself, Lucia made clear that she thought Kritika could eventually convey her meaning on her own. Contrast this with the interpretation sequences in Examples 2 and 3: In these sequences, the teacher initiated a misunderstanding sequence (positioning Monal, Maiya, and Hande as hard-to-understand) and a clarification (positioning them as worth understanding), but unlike the “sun” example, she looked not to Monal, Maiya, and Hande, but to an interpreter, implying that each student’s utterance was not just hard for her to understand, but impossible, and that the students themselves were not capable of clarification. Each interaction, then, served as what Jiang and Zhu (2012) referred to, after Auer (1984) , as an “ascription of incompetence.” Each misunderstanding sequence (the interpretation sequences to a greater degree than standard clarification) called into question the ELL’s ability as a speaker, positioning him/her as linguistically less-than-capable. Yet while these interactions ascribed the students with varying degrees of linguistic incompetence, each sequence also served as what might be called an ascription of “comprehension-worthiness,” or the positioning of the students as worth understanding or worthy of comprehension.

Tommy’s strategic misunderstanding, on the other hand, capitalized on the first ascription, and cannibalized the second, ascribing incompetence to Hande without any of the effort to clarify and thus to ascribe comprehension-worthiness. Tommy drew on already unequal power relations – between English-speaker and English-learner, but also perhaps boy and girl, American and immigrant – to accomplish his immediate aim of evading punishment by distracting Lucia from the framework Hande sought to bring her into, in which Lucia punished Tommy and thus restored the classroom moral order. However, his successful strategic use of the misunderstanding and interpretation frames also served to reinforce Hande’s position as incompetent and to reinscribe existing power relations between Hande and himself.

7 Conclusion

In this paper, I have presented a framework for beginning to understanding why, how, and to what effects preschool students might use strategic “misunderstanding” and (mis)interpretation in intercultural classroom interaction. I have shown that intercultural-ness, per se , did not cause Tommy and Hande’s “misunderstanding,” but that Tommy was able to exploit the misunderstanding and Speaking For frames as well as the power imbalances that were by-products of the intercultural make-up of the class. I suggest that if children as young as three- and four-years-old can exploit their knowledge of misunderstanding and of power relations to strategic conversational and social ends, strategic “misunderstanding” and (mis)interpretation are unlikely to be conversational rarities. Asking who benefits from them and what kinds of conflicts are at their root in a variety of contexts may push the study of intercultural communication (and miscommunication) in new ways.

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Dissertation & Thesis Examples 📖

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Need some inspiration for your study? You’ve come to the right place. Here we showcase a collection of dissertation and thesis   examples to help you get started. All of these are real-world studies from actual degrees (typically PhD and Master’s-level).

PS – If you’re looking for examples of specific dissertation chapters (e.g., literature review or methodology), you can also check out our collection of free templates .

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Examples: Business & Management

Below you’ll find a sample of business and management-related dissertations and theses covering a range of topics.

Title: Interaction Among Supply Chains: Consumers, Firms and Policymakers Author: Yuanchen Li Year: 2020

This PhD thesis examines the dynamics of supply chain relationships across three levels: the interactions between firms and consumers, suppliers and buyers, and firms and governments. The research aims to provide insights into the complexities of supply chain dynamics and their implications for various stakeholders.

Title: Essays in Firm-Level Patenting Activities and Financial Outcomes Author: Michael J Woeppel Year: 2020

This doctoral dissertation explores financial dynamics in two key areas: investment valuation and the performance of small innovative firms. The first chapter introduces a new metric, PI q, which incorporates the replacement cost of patent capital into the traditional Tobin’s q calculation. The second chapter examines small innovative firms, finding that they achieve higher returns for up to five years compared to non-innovators.

Title: Analysis of Design Artifacts in Platform-Based Markets Author: Vandith Pamuru Subramanya Rama Year: 2020

This dissertation investigates design issues within digital platform-based markets through three essays. The first essay explores the economic impact of augmented-reality games like Pokémon Go on local businesses, specifically restaurants. The second essay delves into the sponsored search ad-market, examining the effects of market frictions on bidding behaviors in auctions. The third essay examines user-generated content platforms, focusing on how the loss of elite status affects user contributions.

Title: Gaming the IRS’s Third-Party Reporting System: Evidence From Pari-Mutuel Wagering Author: Victor Charles Ferguson Year: 2020

This dissertation investigates if taxpayers deliberately avoid IRS third-party reporting mechanisms, focusing on an IRS amendment in 2017 that changed how gambling winnings are reported. Specifically, it looks at the impact on thoroughbred racing wagers in the US, using Canadian tracks as a control.

Title: Essays on Product Innovation and Failures Author: Moonsik Shin Year: 2020

This dissertation delves into how strategic decisions made by firms can lead to innovation failures, a relatively underexplored area compared to studies on successful innovations. The research is structured into three essays. The first explores how inter-organisational relationships, specifically investments from venture capitalists, can influence innovation failures due to pressures such as time constraints imposed on portfolio companies. The second essay examines the role of acquisitions in innovation failures, suggesting that challenges like adverse selection and integration issues post-acquisition can significantly hinder a firm’s innovation outcomes. The third essay looks at how incremental product development can lead to failures if new products are too dependent on existing technologies, which may themselves be flawed.

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Examples: Psychology Dissertations

Title: Development and Validation of the Instrumental Support Inventory for Spouses Author: Ryan P. Egan Year: 2020

This research develops and validates the Instrumental Support Inventory for Spouses (ISI-s), a new tool to measure the practical support received from a romantic partner. The study involved two phases: initially, 372 married individuals helped refine the 39-item inventory across five categories through exploratory factor analysis, assessing reliability and validity. The second phase tested the inventory with 298 parents and their partners, using a longitudinal design, confirming its reliability and validity further.

Title: Dysfunctional Individuation, Spiritual Struggle and Identity in Emerging Adults: A Developmental Approach Author: Katheryn J. Klukow Kelley Year: 2020

This study investigates why emerging adults are participating less in organised religion, yet showing increased spirituality, attributing this shift to the process of religious identity development. The research involved a longitudinal survey of 788 students at a religious university, using structural equation models to analyse data collected at four points over an academic year.

Title: Depression Dynamics across a Decade: Density in Daily Depressive Affect and Yearly Depressive Symptoms Author: Raquael J. Joiner Year: 2020

This thesis investigates depression through a dynamic systems perspective, which views changes in depressive symptoms as part of an interconnected network of emotions and states, rather than isolated events. The research focuses on how the density of depressive affect—essentially the compactness and intensity of depressive symptoms—varies within individuals over a decade. By examining data at five different timepoints, the study aims to understand how these symptoms cluster daily and how this clustering influences transitions into or out of depressive states year by year.

Title: Maternal and Adolescent ADHD, Aggression, and Dysfunctional Discipline: Mediating Roles of Maternal Emotion Dysregulation and Stress Author: Natalie M. Ehret Year: 2020

This dissertation explores the challenges that parents face when both they and their children exhibit symptoms of ADHD, as well as oppositional defiant and aggressive behaviours. It investigates how these symptoms in mothers and adolescents may influence parenting discipline, focusing specifically on the roles of maternal emotion dysregulation and stress in shaping disciplinary practices. The study employs a process-oriented approach to better understand these complex dynamics.

Title: Linguistic Markers of Maternal Focus within Emotional Conversations: The Role of Depressive Symptoms and Maltreatment Author: Brigid Behrens Year: 2020

This study explores the relationship between maternal well-being and the language used during parent-child conversations about past emotional events. It specifically examines the use of first-person singular (“I”) and first-person plural (“we”) pronouns during a reminiscing task, to determine how maternal language might reflect cognitive biases. The research includes 229 mother-child dyads, both maltreating and non-maltreating, who are part of a larger clinical trial focused on Reminiscing and Emotion Training.

Examples: Education Theses

Title: Functions and Purposes of Outdoor Education in Singaporean Education and Society: An Instrumental Case Study Author: Susanna Ho Year: 2011

This research aims to explore the roles outdoor education can play in Singapore, by conducting a case study of one school’s programme. Employing interviews, participant observations, and document analysis with tools like NVivo software, the study uses a grounded theory framework to interpret findings. It also incorporates Gert Biesta’s educational functions to assess outdoor education within Singapore’s specific context.

Title: The Impact of Internationalisation of Higher Education on Nursing Education in an Australian University: A Case Study Author: Elizabeth Alexandra Lavender Year: 2014

This study examines the impact of the rapid internationalisation of higher education on the School of Nursing and Midwifery at La Trobe University, Australia. It explores how global trends and policies, particularly the shift from ‘Aid to Trade’, have influenced educational practices within the school. The research uses a case study approach, incorporating document analysis and interviews with 15 university staff experienced in international education.

Title: Diabetes Education from the Podiatrist Perspective Author: Julia Yungken Year: 2020

This thesis investigates how diabetes education is delivered by podiatrists to patients, and the retention of this education over time. Through a series of four articles, the research first conducts a systematic review and meta-analysis to examine current educational practices. It then follows a study with three podiatrists and 24 patients over six months to observe educational retention. Additionally, a survey among Australian podiatrists assesses various educational methods and experiences. The study utilises diverse methodologies including observational studies, cognitive assessments, and surveys to understand and enhance the educational practices in diabetes care provided by podiatrists.

Title: Empowering Saudi Arabian Primary Teachers Through Participatory Action Research to Improve Their Professional Knowledge and Practices Regarding Gifted Learners Author: Faisal Yahya Alamiri Year: 2013

Title: Developing a National Assessment Model to Inform Educational Policy in Bhutan Author: Gembo Tshering Year: 2012

Examples: Healthcare-Related Dissertations

Title: Impact of the Increased Use of Telehealth on Health Care Management and Administration: The Case of New Care Management Practices Author: Immacula Pierre Year: 2024

This qualitative study explored the perceptions of healthcare managers on telehealth’s role and its influence on healthcare practices during the pandemic, focusing on aspects like provision and quality control. Through video-conferenced semi-structured interviews with 10 healthcare managers across various U.S. settings, the research aimed to understand the benefits, challenges, and the future role of telehealth.

Title: Healthcare Facilities Management Leadership Style Compared to Traditional Healthcare Business and Clinical Leaders Author: Joshua Ashlock Year: 2020

This dissertation explores leadership style differences between two groups within healthcare: traditional business and clinical leaders (represented by members of the American College of Healthcare Executives, ACHE) and healthcare facilities management leaders (represented by members of the American Society of Healthcare Engineers, ASHE). The research focuses on comparing transformational, transactional, and passive-avoidant leadership traits between these groups.

Title: Leadership Support as an Influence on Frontline Healthcare Employee Retention in the Washington Metropolitan Area (DMV) Author: Tamika Fair Year: 2023

This qualitative case study addresses the significant issue of high turnover rates among frontline healthcare employees in the DMV area, examining how the lack of support from healthcare leadership contributes to this problem. Through semi-structured interviews with 11 primary healthcare administrators in the DMV region, the research investigates how leaders engage with frontline workers and assesses their preparedness to tackle high staff turnover.

Title: Electronic Patient Portals: Promotion of Access by Healthcare Workers Increases Patient Engagement Author: Dena Todd Year: 2022

This integrative literature review examines strategies for promoting electronic patient portal (EPP) access in healthcare settings, a requirement highlighted by the Health Information for Economic and Clinical Health (HITECH) Act of 2010. The review underscores the importance of EPP systems in providing patients with access to their personal health information, including medications, lab results, diagnostics, and appointments. It discusses the potential risks for healthcare organisations that fail to offer such access, notably the loss of federal funding.

Title: Understanding Workplace Conditions Contributing to Physician Burnout Prevalence in Maryland State Author: Fatima Adefunke Queen Year: 2023

This dissertation utilises a qualitative multiple-case study to examine the workplace conditions that contribute to physician burnout in Maryland, particularly among primary care providers who show burnout rates of up to 50%. The study involved interviews with 21 physicians, including Medical Doctors (M.D.s), Doctors of Nursing Practice (DNPs), and Nurse Practitioners (NPs). Using Shanafelt’s well-being framework, the research aimed to understand the factors leading to burnout and its subsequent impact on physician attrition.

Examples: Political Science Theses

Title: The Influence of Peer Relationships on Political Socialisation Among College Students Author: Zachary Thomas Isaacs Year: 2021

This thesis investigates the role of peer relationships in the political socialisation of college students. This is an area not extensively covered by existing research, which primarily focuses on parental influence and often excludes the post-18 age group. A survey was conducted among college students aged 18 to 24, to explore how they communicate with their peers regarding politics and the effects of these interactions on their political socialisation.

Title: The Impact of Political Culture on Political Reactions: A Case Study of EU Sanctions on Russia Author: Kenzie Robin De Keyser Year: 2020

This dissertation examines the complex political impacts of European Union (EU) sanctions on Russia, taking into account the nuanced interplay between Russia’s political culture and the economic interdependencies between the EU and Russia. The research utilises the Cross-Cultural Competency (3Cs) Theorem to analyse key elements of Russian political culture—Russian Orthodox Christianity, geography, autocracy, and economic development— which are crucial in shaping the country’s political responses and governmental structure.

Title: Biased Representation: How Compulsory Voting and Campaign Finance Interact to Influence Government Responsiveness Author: Sarah Steinberg Year: 2016

This thesis investigates the interaction between compulsory voting and campaign finance, focusing on how they influence government responsiveness. It argues that the significant financial influence in political campaigns can lead to an elite bias, where government policies favour wealthier interests. The study uses statistical analysis and case studies from two countries to explore whether compulsory voting, which typically results in nearly universal voter turnout, can mitigate this bias.

Example: Dissertation Proposal

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Understanding Social Media: Misinformation, Attention, and Digital Advertising

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A survey of expert views on misinformation: Definitions, determinants, solutions, and future of the field

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We surveyed 150 academic experts on misinformation and identified areas of expert consensus. Experts defined misinformation as false and misleading information, though views diverged on the importance of intentionality and what exactly constitutes misinformation. The most popular reason why people believe and share misinformation was partisanship, while lack of education was one of the least popular reasons. Experts were optimistic about the effectiveness of interventions against misinformation and supported system-level actions against misinformation, such as platform design changes and algorithmic changes. The most agreed-upon future direction for the field of misinformation was to collect more data outside of the United States. 

Department of Political Science, University of Zurich, Switzerland

médialab, Sciences Po Paris, France

Institute for Information Management Bremen, University of Bremen, Germany

Department of Communication, University of Copenhagen, Denmark

Department of Psychology, New York University, USA

Research Questions

• How do experts define misinformation?
• What do experts think about current debates surrounding misinformation, social media, and echo chambers?
• According to experts, why do people believe and share misinformation?
• What do experts think about the effectiveness of interventions against misinformation?
• How do experts think the study of misinformation could be improved? 

Essay Summary

• The experts we surveyed defined misinformation as false and misleading information. They agreed that pseudoscience and conspiracy theories are misinformation, while satirical news is not. Experts across disciplines and methods disagreed on the importance of intentionality and whether propaganda, clickbait headlines, and hyperpartisan news are misinformation. 
• The experts agreed that social media platforms worsened the misinformation problem and that people are exposed to more opposing viewpoints online than offline. Respondents were also skeptical of the claim that misinformation determined the outcome of the 2016 U.S. presidential election, whereas psychologists were not. 
• The most popular explanations as to why people believe and share misinformation were partisanship, identity, confirmation bias, motivated reasoning, and lack of trust in institutions. 
• The experts we surveyed agreed that current interventions against misinformation, such as media literacy and fact-checking, would be effective if widely adopted. Experts were in favor of platform design changes, algorithmic changes, content moderation, de-platforming, and stronger regulations.
• These experts also agreed that in the future, it will be important to collect more data outside of the United States, do more interdisciplinary work, examine subtler forms of misinformation, study platforms other than Twitter and Facebook, and develop better theories and interventions.

Implications 

Fake news, misinformation, and disinformation have become some of the most studied phenomena in the social sciences (Freelon & Wells, 2020). Despite the widespread use of these concepts, scholars often disagree on their meaning. While some use misinformation as an umbrella term to describe falsehoods and deception broadly (Van Bavel et al., 2021), others use it specifically to capture unintentional   forms of false or deceptive content (Wardle & Derakhshan, 2017).   

In line with these discrepancies, our survey of 150 experts on misinformation from across academia revealed key definitional differences across disciplines and methods used to study misinformation. Experts relying on qualitative methods were more likely to include the intentionality of the sharer in the definition of misinformation than experts relying on quantitative methods. Moreover, psychologists had broader definitions of misinformation (including, for instance, propaganda and hyperpartisan headlines) compared to political scientists. Disagreement on the definitions of key concepts is not unique to misinformation research (e.g., Pearson, 2006), and such disagreements are not necessarily a problem, as they allow for different analytical perspectives and insights. Yet, if definitions of misinformation are too vague or not consensual enough, policy responses to misinformation can easily be instrumentalized by policymakers to strategically reduce freedom of speech, such as by silencing political opponents—a development already criticized by human rights groups (Human Rights Watch, 2021; Reporters Without Borders, 2017). From a scientific perspective, semantic disagreements across disciplines may sow confusion in the field by artificially creating contradictory findings. For instance, some disagreements about the effect and prevalence of misinformation may be intensified by differences in conceptualizations (Rogers, 2020). This should encourage researchers to better define misinformation and be explicit about it to avoid interdisciplinary misunderstandings. 

In this article, we do not seek to provide an authoritative definition of misinformation, but rather to document how experts across disciplines define the concept—which can ultimately help practitioners and researchers to operationalize it. Experts agreed that misinformation not only comprises falsehoods, but also misleading information (Søe, 2021). This stands in contrast with most experimental studies on misinformation, which focus primarily on news determined to be false by fact-checkers (Pennycook & Rand, 2022). Researchers may thus want to broaden their nets to include more misleading information and subtler forms of misinformation, such as biased or partisan news. Most experts in our survey also agreed that pseudoscience and conspiracy theories represent forms of misinformation, while satirical and parodical news do not. These findings could help future studies make decisions about what to include in the misinformation category, as some studies have in the past included satirical and parodical news websites (Cordonier & Brest, 2021). 

While alarmist narratives about “fake news,” “echo chambers,” and the “infodemic,” abound in public debate (Altay et al., 2023; Simon & Camargo, 2021), experts had sobering views. First, experts agreed that people are  more  exposed to opposing viewpoints online than offline. This should motivate scientists to study the effect of exposure to opposing viewpoints (Bail et al., 2018). Second, despite the popularity of the idea that misinformation and belief in conspiracy theories have increased in the past ten years (Uscinski et al., 2022), experts were divided on this question. This is notable considering the popularity of the idea that we live in a new “post-truth era” (Altay et al., 2023), and it highlights the need for more longitudinal studies (Uscinski et al., 2022). Third, less than half of experts surveyed agreed that participants sincerely believe the misinformation they report to believe in surveys. This should motivate journalists to take alarmist survey results with a grain of salt. Researchers should continue to improve survey instruments (Graham, 2023), but also do more conceptual work on defining “(mis)beliefs” and the circumstances in which they are cause for concern (Mercier & Altay, 2022). Fourth, there is no clear consensus on the impact of misinformation on the outcome of the 2016 U.S. election, with 54% of psychologists agreeing that misinformation played a decisive role, while 73% of political scientists disagree. For journalists and policymakers, it stresses the importance of seeking advice from several researchers with different backgrounds.

Scholars from a variety of fields have investigated the reasons why people believe and share misinformation (Ecker et al., 2022; Righetti, 2021). In this literature, some have focused on motivated reasoning and political partisanship (Osmundsen et al., 2021; Van Bavel et al., 2021), while others on inattention, lack of cognitive reflection, or repeated exposure (Fazio et al., 2019; Pennycook & Rand, 2022). However, we observed little disagreement across methods and disciplines on the key determinants of misinformation belief and sharing. The list of determinants detailed in Figure 2 could be used by scientists, platforms, and companies to design more effective interventions against misinformation. For instance, few interventions against misinformation target partisanship, the most agreed-upon determinant of misinformation belief and sharing in our survey. Similarly, while many existing interventions aim at improving media literacy, illiteracy was only the eighth most agreed-upon determinant of belief in misinformation and the ninth most agreed-upon determinant of misinformation sharing. Finally, contrary to the idea that people believe misinformation because they are not educated enough, lack of education was one of the least popular determinants. The discrepancies between current misinformation response strategies and expert consensus highlight the importance of this interdisciplinary meta-study.

In the literature on misinformation, there are disagreements on which interventions are most effective against misinformation (Guay et al., 2022; Roozenbeek et al., 2021) and on the extent to which interventions against misinformation are effective (Acerbi et al., 2022; Altay, 2022; Modirrousta-Galian & Higham, 2022). Yet, in our survey, we found that experts generally agreed that most existing interventions against misinformation would be effective if deployed in the wild and were adopted widely by social media companies. Despite this apparent optimism, experts mostly selected the “tend to agree” responses, which may reflect their awareness that, in isolation, individual interventions have limited effects, and that it is only in combination that they can have a meaningful impact (Bak-Coleman et al., 2022). 

Experts agreed that social media platforms have worsened the problem of misinformation and were in favor of various actions that platforms could take against misinformation, such as platform design changes, algorithmic changes, content moderation, de-platforming prominent actors that spread misinformation, and crowdsourcing misinformation detection or removing it. These findings could help policymakers and social media platforms guide their efforts against misinformation—even if they should also factor in laypeople’s opinions about it and be vigilant about protecting democratic rights in the process (Kozyreva et al., 2023).  

Finally, we offer concrete steps that the field of misinformation could take in the future and that experts agree are important. This includes collecting more data outside of the United States (in particular by local academics), doing more interdisciplinary work, studying subtler forms of misinformation, studying other platforms than Twitter and Facebook, and developing better theories and interventions. To be successful, these efforts will need to be backed up by structural changes, such as infrastructure and funding opportunities to collect data in underrepresented countries, access to more diverse social media data, less siloed disciplinary boundaries in universities, and stronger incentives to follow these recommendations at the publication and funding level. Doing so would address not only the current limitations of misinformation research, but also the wider structural inequalities in social scientific research, where countries such as the United States and platforms such as Twitter are generally overrepresented considering their size (Matamoros-Fernández & Farkas, 2021).

Our findings should be interpreted with a few caveats. First, because most experts in the survey are from the Global North, our findings may not apply to countries in the Global South. Second, while it may be tempting to think that differences in how researchers define misinformation may explain differences in opinions across disciplines, our findings do not formally support it and are inconclusive regarding the existence of such mediation (see Appendix E). More broadly, given the interdisciplinary character and global representation of experts in this survey, we caution against drawing conclusions about the origins of differences across disciplines and methods. For instance, because we did not impose definitions on experts, some differences may be purely semantic (e.g., hyperpartisan news may be defined differently by psychologists and political scientists). 

In conclusion, the differences of opinions across disciplines and methods, combined with the agreed-upon need to do more interdisciplinary work on misinformation, should encourage more discussions across disciplines and methods. In particular, collaborations between qualitative and quantitative researchers and between political scientists and psychologists would be fruitful to solve some disagreements. Our findings offer high-level expert consensus on timely questions regarding the definitions of misinformation, determinants of misinformation belief and sharing, individual and system-level solutions against misinformation, and how to improve the study of misinformation. Ultimately, these findings can help policymakers and platforms to tackle misinformation more efficiently, journalists to have a more representative view of experts’ views on misinformation, and scientists to move the field forward.

Findings 

Finding 1: Defining misinformation. 

The most popular definition of misinformation was “False and misleading information,” followed by “False and misleading information spread unintentionally.” Other definitions, including only false information or only misleading information, were much less popular. Definitions of misinformation varied across methods, with qualitative experts being more likely to include intentionality in the definition of misinformation than quantitative researchers (see Table 1).

Experts across disciplines generally agreed that pseudoscience (85%), conspiracy theories (79%), lies (75%), and deepfakes (73%) constitute forms of misinformation, while satirical and parodical news does not (77% disagreed). There was less agreement and much more uncertainty regarding propaganda, rumors, hyperpartisan news, and clickbait headlines. Note that many experts also expressed uncertainty by selecting the option “Neither agree nor disagree.” 

We observed some variability across disciplines and methods. Qualitative researchers were less likely to agree that lies and deep fakes (59%) are misinformation compared to quantitative researchers (84%). Propaganda was more likely to be considered misinformation by psychologists (72%) than social scientists (51%) or political scientists (36%). Hyperpartisan headlines were more likely to be considered misinformation by psychologists (64%) than by social scientists (49%) or political scientists (23%). Clickbait headlines were more likely to be considered misinformation by computational scientists (65%), social scientists (57%), and psychologists (54%), than political scientists (22%). 

Finding 2: Why do people believe and share misinformation?

We documented broad agreement among experts on the reasons why people believe and share misinformation. The most agreed-upon explanation for why people believe and share misinformation is partisanship. Figure 2 shows that 96% of experts agreed that partisanship is a key reason why people share misinformation, and 93% of experts also agreed that partisanship is key to explaining why people believe in misinformation. 

Identity, confirmation bias, motivated reasoning, and lack of trust in institutions received very high levels of agreement (between 73% and 93%). Repeated exposure, inattention, lack of cognitive reflection, and lack of digital/media literacy also received relatively high levels of agreement (between 54% and 84%).

Two determinants were particularly unpopular. Less than 50% of experts agreed that lack of education and lack of access to reliable news  were  reasons why people believe and share misinformation. This is particularly noteworthy considering prior work highlighting the importance of education (van Prooijen, 2017) and an increase in paywalls limiting access to reliable news (Olsen et al., 2020). 

Finding 3: Opinions about misinformation and digital media.

Next, we documented misinformation experts’ opinions about current debates surrounding misinformation, social media, and echo chambers. The most agreed-upon opinion was that social media and platforms made the misinformation problem worse (79% agreement). Experts also agreed that people are exposed to more opposing viewpoints online than offline (65%). There was less agreement regarding the notion that “falsehoods generally spread faster than the truth on social media” (53%), “people can tell the truth from falsehoods” (53%), and “participants sincerely believe the misinformation they report to believe in surveys” (47%). 

The least agreed-with statement was that “belief in misinformation & conspiracy theories is higher than ten years ago”—only 32% of experts agreed and 36% disagreed. It is also the statement about which experts were the most uncertain, with 32% of experts selecting the “neither agree nor disagree” option. 

The most polarizing statement was that “misinformation played a decisive role in the outcome of the 2016 U.S. election,” with 40% of experts agreeing and 39% disagreeing. This polarization is mostly due to differences in opinion between psychologists and political scientists. Political scientists were very skeptical of this claim, with 73% in disagreement and only 14% in agreement. In contrast, 54% of psychologists agreed that misinformation played a decisive role, while only 26% disagreed.

Finding 4: What are the solutions to the problem of misinformation?

To help researchers and practitioners decide what misinformation solutions to study and develop, we explored what individual-level interventions and system-level actions against misinformation experts favored.

Considering individual-level interventions, experts generally agreed that all the interventions listed in Figure 4 would be effective against misinformation if deployed in the wild and widely adopted by social media companies or institutions. The most popular intervention was digital/media literacy training, with 72% approval, while the least popular was inoculation, with 58% approval.

Regarding system-level actions against misinformation, the most widely agreed-upon solution was platform design changes, with 89% approval, followed by algorithmic changes (84%) and content moderation on social media (80%). Experts were also generally in favor of de-platforming prominent actors sharing misinformation (73%), stronger regulations to hold platforms accountable (70%), crowdsourcing the detection of misinformation (66%), removing misinformation (63%), and even, to some extent, penalizing 1 Note that the word penalization can be broadly understood as any form of punishment (e.g., reducing the visibility of misinformation spreaders or sending them a warning) and is not restricted to legal penalization. misinformation sharing on social media (53%). By far, the least popular action against misinformation was shadow banning, with more experts disagreeing that this type of action should be taken (46%) than agreeing (33%).

Finding 5: What future for the field of misinformation? 

The most agreed-upon future direction for the field of misinformation was to collect more data outside of the United States; 95% of experts agreed with the statement (of which 61% strongly agreed). Experts also agreed on the importance of doing more interdisciplinary work (93%), developing better theories of why people believe and share misinformation (88%), developing and testing more interventions against misinformation (85%), moving away from fake news to study subtler forms of misinformation (81%), moving away from Twitter and Facebook data to study TikTok, WhatsApp, and other platforms (85%), and developing better tools to detect misinformation (81%). These views align with existing calls for further geographical and platform diversity in empirical studies—going beyond the most accessible APIs (e.g., Twitter) and most publicized empirical contexts (e.g., the United States; Matamoros-Fernández & Farkas, 2021). 

The least popular future direction was to move away from social media data to study offline misinformation, with 59% of experts agreeing and 25% neither agreeing nor disagreeing. On this point, the opinion of psychologists and computational scientists diverged: 69% of psychologists agreed that we should move away from social media data to study offline misinformation, while only 38% of computational scientists agreed. The least popular future direction was to move away from social media data to study offline misinformation, with 59% of experts agreeing and 25% neither agreeing nor disagreeing. On this point, the opinion of psychologists and computational scientists diverged: 69% of psychologists agreed that we should move away from social media data to study offline misinformation, while only 38% of computational scientists agreed.

Methods 

Participants

The experts were contacted between the 6th of December 2022 and the 16th of January 2023. In total, 201 experts responded to the survey. Fifty were excluded because they did not finish the survey (i.e., they stopped before the final quality check question). Two additional participants were excluded because they failed the quality check question. Our final sample was 150 experts (51 women,  M age  = 39.11,  SD age  = 9.66). In Appendix A, we report demographic information about the experts. We did not consider gender in the recruitment of participants and do not have access to the gender breakdown of the respondents we contacted—it is thus unclear whether the gender imbalance in the survey is an artifact of our recruitment techniques or not.

Experts on misinformation were recruited to participate in the survey using four overlapping recruitment strategies. First, the email addresses of 171 experts were retrieved from Google Scholar by using the keywords “misinformation” and “fake news” (first twelve pages since 2018). Second, 93 experts were recruited from the program committee of MISDOOM, an international conference on mis/disinformation. For this, we collected their email address and emailed them directly. Third, 95 experts were contacted via the De Facto mailing list, a network of French experts on misinformation, and 36 experts were contacted because they attended an ICA pre-conference on the future of mis/disinformation studies. Fourth, 190 experts were contacted via snowball sampling: they were recommended by other experts at the end of the survey. The experts were also allowed to share the survey with their lab or colleagues but were instructed not to share it on social media. As we made clear in the survey, we relied on a quite broad definition of expertise: “anyone who has done academic work on misinformation.” We could not ensure that all respondents were experts on misinformation. However, because we did not share the survey publicly and only contacted experts on misinformation (i.e., those who wrote academic articles on misinformation, attended a conference on misinformation, or were recommended by misinformation experts), we are confident that the risk of having non-expert respondents is very low. 

Design and procedure

After completing a consent form, participants were asked to answer eight questions divided into eight blocks on (i) the definition of misinformation, (ii) examples of misinformation, (iii) why people believe misinformation, (iv) why people share misinformation, (v) general questions about misinformation and digital media, (vi) individual-level interventions against misinformation, (vii) system-level actions against misinformation, and (viii) the future of the field of misinformation. In Appendix B, we report all the survey questions and response options. 

The presentation order of the blocks was fixed. The questions inside the blocks were presented in a randomized order (except for the first block, since the definitions of misinformation were incremental).  Participants were asked to report their age, gender, nationality, political orientation, area of expertise, and method used to study misinformation. Participants were also asked if they have answered the survey in a meaningful way and whether we could use their data for scientific purposes. Finally, participants were asked to recommend other experts on misinformation and could share their thoughts about the experiment in a text box.   

The questions and response options were determined by a team of interdisciplinary experts on misinformation (cognitive science, sociology, media and communication, psychology, and computer science) and represent the authors’ understanding of the literature on misinformation. The questions and response options are not exhaustive; for instance, there are many more reasons why people believe and share misinformation, and there are many more ways to define misinformation. We focused on what we deemed to be the most relevant given our knowledge of the field. Moreover, one author recently conducted a qualitative survey on misinformation experts and used this knowledge to design the present survey. 

In Appendices C and D, we offer a visualization of the results broken down by disciplines and methods. On OSF, readers will find the regression tables of all statistical comparisons between disciplines and methods (for more information about the statistical models, see Appendix E). In the Results section, we only report statistically significant differences and the most meaningful differences across methods and disciplines (based notably on effect size).

• / Partisan Issues
• / Platform Regulation

Cite this Essay

Altay, S., Berriche, M., Heuer, H., Farkas, J., & Rathje, S. (2023). A survey of expert views on misinformation: Definitions, determinants, solutions, and future of the field. Harvard Kennedy School (HKS) Misinformation Review . https://doi.org/10.37016/mr-2020-119

• / Appendix B
• / Appendix C
• / Appendix D
• / Appendix E
• / Appendix F

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This study has partially benefited from the support of the project co-financed by the European Commission within the framework of the Connecting Europe Facility (CEF) – Telecommunications Sector (contract no. INEA/CEF/ICT/A2020/2394372).

Competing Interests

The authors do not report any competing interests.

Participants provided informed consent before participating in the survey. Participants had the freedom not to answer the question regarding their gender (they could also select the “non-binary/third gender” option or the “prefer not to say” option).

This is an open access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License , which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided that the original author and source are properly credited.

Data Availability

All materials needed to replicate this study are available via the Harvard Dataverse: https://doi.org/10.7910/DVN/5C3FHW and OSF: https://doi.org/10.17605/OSF.IO/JD9XF .

After the first author who led the project, the order of authors was determined by alphabetical order.

Want to create or adapt books like this? Learn more about how Pressbooks supports open publishing practices.

Preparing for Research

• Understand the difference between primary and secondary research.
• Be able to properly select a research method for primary research.
• Understand that a working thesis should not be used as a final thesis.
• Be able to choose what model is most appropriate for the working thesis.
• Primary Research

Conducting primary research is an excellent skill for students to develop using various methods such as interviews, surveys, or observations. Primary research is the collection of original real-world data that can be used in academic, business, or simply personal situations. While it may seem confusing, it is important to keep in mind that primary research reports often incorporate background information from secondary sources to present prior knowledge and relevance of the subject. Primary research should be focused on forming new conclusions on collected data as opposed to paraphrasing what other sources have already concluded.

When considering how to conduct primary research, it is important to note that there are three basic methods for collecting data. Choosing a method requires not only deciding what type of information is best for the research, but also considering who the subject of the data collection will be. Therefore, when deciding between interviews, surveys, and observations, the following information will be useful for making the proper decision.

Observations

Observational studies should be used in situations where it is better to watch instead of asking. Observers should always be observing the actions of the subject(s), not the attitudes. Essentially, the actions of the subject(s) should theoretically not change whether they are being observed or not. Unfortunately, this will likely not be the case. Whenever an observation study is taking place, the observers are always a part of the situation they are observing themselves. A prime example of this is when a teacher is being evaluated in the classroom. The observer is obviously meant to be ignored, but it is no secret that both the students and the teacher will be on their best behavior. In any case, the observations should leave the data collector with questions instead of predictions. If the observer has confirmation bias before going into the study, their results will blatantly display their bias and be regarded as inaccurate. Therefore, confirmation bias is one of the most common flaws found in observational studies.

Interviews are used for studies that only require a small number of people and aim for in depth and personal answers. Interviews can be conducted in one-on-one or small group settings. Interviews often include gathering background information from the interviewee that can also be analyzed to draw conclusions from. Prior to the interview, the interviewer should provide the participants with a consent form that outlines the purpose, use of the information, and requests permission to use their responses as part of the research. To record the responses from the interviewee, some use an audio recording device to save the conversation verbatim. Others may use a laptop or notebook to write down the information. No matter the recording method, it is important to remember that only the important information needs to be quoted in the research report and the rest of the information can be summarized. The interview questions themselves should be open-ended questions and not binary questions. Asking open-ended questions allows the interviewer to draw more information and opinions out of the person being interviewed, thus allowing for a better and more in-depth analysis of the information. Interviews are also the most appropriate when looking for an expert opinion on the subject.

Surveys are usually used in studies that require responses from a large number of people. The information gathered from surveys is normally used to discover what a large population thinks or believes, and the participants are normally kept anonymous. The questions used in a survey should be as simple as possible and are normally short answer or multiple choice. Surveys often ask some general demographical questions in the beginning such as religious affiliation, gender, age, etc. Prior to creating these questions, the researcher should brainstorm which factors may affect the results and why. One of the most important aspects of survey studies is to not make generalizations that the data cannot support. For example, if the survey asks ten college students if they like pizza, it would be inappropriate to conclude that all college students like pizza.

• Working Thesis

A working thesis can be a difficult concept to understand, however it is essentially a rough draft of the final thesis. A working thesis is the first attempt at an assertion of your position. A working thesis should never be accepted as a final thesis and as you further your research you should continue testing your assertions and modifying your working thesis throughout. When creating a working thesis, there are three basic models that can be used: Correcting-Misinterpretations Model, Filling the Gap Model, and the Modifying What Others Have Said Model. Each of these models is a different strategy for creating a working thesis.

Correcting-Misinterpretations Model

This model is used to correct writers whose arguments you believe have misconstrued one or more important aspects of an issue. While not necessarily saying the other writers are incorrect, this model is used to correct what you believe your research can prove differently. An example of this model is as follows: “Although many scholars have argued about X & Y, a careful examination suggests Z.”

Filling the Gap Model

                This model is used to fill in what other writers may have overlooked or ignored. A key part of this model is that you are filling in the previous research with your own primary research. An example of this model would be: “Although scholars have noted X & Y, they have missed the importance of Z.”

Modifying What Others Have Said Model

               This model is used to modify other writers’ claims but realizing that mutual understanding is possible. While easily confused with the Correcting-Misinterpretations Model, the difference is the mutual understanding between the previous writer and yourself and agreeing with part of their argument. An example of this model would be: “Although I agree with X & Y, it is important to extend their ideas with Z.”

• Secondary Research

Writing @ Saint Leo Copyright © 2020 by Chris Friend is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License , except where otherwise noted.

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Misconceptions, Misuses, and Misinterpretations of P Values and Significance Testing

Gagnier, Joel J. ND, MSc, PhD; Morgenstern, Hal PhD

1 Departments of Orthopaedic Surgery (J.J.G.) and Urology (H.M.), Medical School, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Michigan

2 Departments of Epidemiology (J.J.G. and H.M.) and Environmental Health Sciences (H.M.), School of Public Health, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Michigan

a E-mail address for J.J. Gagnier: [email protected]

Update 

This article was updated on October 13, 2017, because of a previous error. On page 1602, in the section titled “Principle 5: ‘A P -Value, or Statistical Significance, Does Not Measure the Size of an Effect or the Importance of a Result,’” the sentence that had read “For example, a mean difference of 20 points on the 100-point SF-36 PCS between treatment groups may yield a small p value and a narrow confidence interval if the sample size is very large” now reads “For example, a mean difference of 2 points on the 100-point SF-36 PCS between treatment groups may yield a small p value and a narrow confidence interval if the sample size is very large.”

An erratum has been published: J Bone Joint Surg Am. 2017 Nov 15;99(22):e125.

The interpretation and reporting of p values and significance testing in biomedical research are fraught with misconceptions and inaccuracies. Publications of peer-reviewed research in orthopaedics are not immune to such problems. The American Statistical Association (ASA) recently published an official statement on the use, misuse, and misinterpretation of statistical testing and p values in applied research. The ASA statement discussed 6 principles: (1) “ P -values can indicate how incompatible the data are with a specified statistical model.” (2) “ P -values do not measure the probability that the studied hypothesis is true, or the probability that the data were produced by random chance alone.” (3) “Scientific conclusions and business or policy decisions should not be based only on whether a p -value passes a specific threshold.” (4) “Proper inference requires full reporting and transparency.” (5) “A p -value, or statistical significance, does not measure the size of an effect or the importance of a result.” (6) “By itself, a p -value does not provide a good measure of evidence regarding a model or hypothesis.” The purpose of this article was to discuss these principles. We make several recommendations for moving forward: (1) Authors should avoid statements such as “statistically significant” or “statistically nonsignificant.” (2) Investigators should report the magnitude of effect of all outcomes together with the appropriate measure of precision or variation. (3) Orthopaedic residents and surgeons must be educated in biostatistics, the ASA principles, and clinical epidemiology. (4) Journal editors and reviewers need to be familiar with and enforce the ASA principles.

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How to Use misinterpretation in a Sentence

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Example Of Critical Thinking On Misinterpretation Analysis

Type of paper: Critical Thinking

Topic: Communication , Friendship , Humor , Joke , Friends , People

Published: 11/13/2020

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Communication is definitely a great thing. For many of us, however, it simply means involvement into an everyday process of talking to friends or family via phones or the Internet without paying much attention to peculiarities of their communicative needs. Therefore, it is not uncommon for communication failures to take place, and, surprisingly, we hardly bother ourselves to find out what went wrong and learn a lesson from the misunderstanding. It is a good idea, though, to see the misinterpretation situation as a way of shouldering responsibility for insensitivity to your partner’s communication needs and trying to fix it by taking a deeper insight into his/her communication standpoint. I recently had quite an absurd misinterpretation thing with one of my closest friends. I remembered it very well, as it seemed absolutely staggering for me why two people who had known each other for several years would experience a minor yet nasty conflict like that. I texted my friend inviting her to eat out in a new restaurant and try one of the most delicious pizzas they serve. I ended my message with the sentences “Pizza won’t make our butts bigger than they are They’re already as big as an elephant, so nothing to worry about! ”. However, I didn’t get a reply. I texted her saying that was a joke, but no reply as well. Finally, I called her to apologize for the stupid joke I made. To my utter surprise, my friend told me that everyone was blaming her for being fat. Even her parents said earlier she gained some weight, which made her really upset. She was trying hard to limit her calories intake, but it was too hard to keep food energy figures in check. I realized I was wrong. I suggested we immediately met to clear all up and make sure nothing like that would disturb our friendship. I strongly believe that this sort of misinterpretation could have been avoided if we had a spoken channel of communication, as it is often accompanied by non-verbal clues. I think I would be able to turn the whole issue into a laugh and make my friend feel comfortable with a friendly smile, another joke, a pat on the back or a hug. Eye or bodily contacts are effective means of calming people down and relieving their tension by sheer physical presence.

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Miscommunication vs Misinterpretation

Ai generator.

In the intricate web of human interaction, understanding the disparity between miscommunication and misinterpretation is paramount. This comprehensive guide delves into the core distinctions, offering illuminating communication examples to demystify the intricacies. Uncover the subtle nuances that differentiate these two concepts, empowering you with insights and strategies to foster effective communication. Navigate real-world scenarios and enrich your communication toolkit through this insightful exploration of miscommunication versus misinterpretation. Communication examples abound, providing practical wisdom for enhancing interpersonal connections.

What is Miscommunication vs Misinterpretation

In the realm of human interaction, miscommunication and misinterpretation are terms often used interchangeably but possess distinct meanings. Miscommunication refers to the failure to convey a message accurately, leading to confusion. On the other hand, misinterpretation involves the receiver misunderstanding the intended meaning of a message. This H2 guide elucidates these concepts in clear, simple English, offering a foundational understanding of the subtle yet crucial differences between miscommunication and misinterpretation.

Difference Between Miscommunication And Misinterpretation

This detailed breakdown offers insights into the distinct characteristics of miscommunication and misinterpretation, highlighting their respective causes, communication types, impacts, and prevention strategies.

10 Examples of Miscommunication

• Lost in Translation: When cultural nuances alter the meaning of a phrase, misunderstanding arises, highlighting the importance of cultural sensitivity in communication.
• The Telephone Game Debacle: Demonstrating how a message can morph as it passes through multiple sources, emphasizing the fragility of relayed information.
• Email Ambiguity: A classic case of miscommunication, where the tone of an email is misconstrued, underlining the challenges of interpreting written messages.
• Unintended Humour: Instances where a well-intentioned joke is misinterpreted, showcasing the fine line between humor and offense.
• Assumed Contexts: When assumptions about shared knowledge lead to miscommunication, emphasizing the need for clarity in conveying contextual information.
• Conflicting Non-Verbal Cues: The divergence between spoken words and non-verbal cues, showcasing the impact of body language on communication outcomes.
• Incomplete Instructions: Demonstrating how vague or incomplete instructions can lead to confusion, emphasizing the importance of precise communication.
• Mismatched Expectations: Exploring the fallout when parties involved have differing expectations, underscoring the necessity of aligning anticipations.
• Technology Hiccups: From autocorrect mishaps to glitches in digital communication, revealing the challenges posed by technological interventions in conveying accurate messages.
• Mixed Signals: Instances where mixed signals create confusion, highlighting the necessity of consistency in verbal and non-verbal communication to avoid misunderstandings.

10 Examples of Misinterpretation

• Email Tone : In written communication, a casual tone may be misinterpreted as indifference, leading to confusion and potential conflict.
• Cultural Gestures : Simple gestures may carry different meanings in diverse cultures, causing unintentional misunderstandings.
• Sarcasm Overlooked : Sarcasm, often challenging to detect, may be misinterpreted as sincerity, altering the message’s intended meaning.
• Ambiguous Instructions : Unclear directives can lead to misinterpretations, affecting the outcome and efficiency of tasks.
• Word Ambiguity : Words with multiple meanings may create confusion, especially when the context is not explicitly clear.
• Assumed Prior Knowledge : Assuming shared knowledge without confirmation may result in misinterpretations and errors.
• Facial Expressions : Even facial expressions can be misinterpreted; a smile may convey politeness or discomfort depending on the context.
• Unstated Expectations : Failure to communicate expectations explicitly may lead to misinterpretations and unmet assumptions.
• Text Abbreviations : In digital communication, abbreviations might be misinterpreted, altering the message’s intended tone.
• Silence Misconstrued : Silence can be misinterpreted; it may signify agreement, disagreement, or contemplation, leading to misunderstandings.

Relationship Between Miscommunication and Misunderstanding

In the intricate tapestry of human communication, understanding the interplay between miscommunication and misinterpretation is essential for fostering effective and clear exchanges. This guide explores the nuanced relationship between these two concepts, delving into their connections, shared aspects, and distinct characteristics.

• Shared Elements: Miscommunication and misinterpretation often share common ground. Both can stem from unclear expressions, language barriers, and the absence of necessary context. Recognizing these shared elements is the first step in unravelling their relationship.
• Distinct Characteristics: While they share similarities, miscommunication and misinterpretation also exhibit unique features. Miscommunication, for instance, emphasizes the inaccurate transmission of a message, whereas misinterpretation focuses on the recipient’s incorrect understanding. Understanding these distinctions is vital for effective communication strategies.
• Impact on Relationships: Explore how miscommunication and misinterpretation can impact interpersonal relationships. From minor misunderstandings to significant conflicts, these communication breakdowns can strain connections and hinder collaboration. Strategies for mitigating these impacts will be discussed to enhance relationship-building skills.
• Role of Non-Verbal Cues: Non-verbal cues play a crucial role in both miscommunication and misinterpretation. Analyse how body language, facial expressions, and gestures contribute to these phenomena, and discover ways to align verbal and non-verbal communication for clarity.
• Strategies for Prevention: This section will delve into practical strategies to prevent and address miscommunication and misinterpretation. From fostering a culture of open communication to embracing active listening techniques, these strategies aim to enhance overall communication effectiveness.
• Real-world Examples: Illuminate the concepts discussed with real-world examples. Analyse scenarios where miscommunication and misinterpretation have occurred, providing insights into the causes, impacts, and potential resolutions. Learning from these examples enhances practical understanding.

In the intricate dance of human interaction, distinguishing between miscommunication and misinterpretation is vital. This comprehensive guide has unravelled their nuances, providing real-world examples and actionable insights. By understanding these distinctions, individuals can enhance their communication skills, fostering clarity and preventing misunderstandings. Embrace effective communication to navigate the complexities of interaction with confidence and precision.

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The Most Famous Examples of Misinterpretation

Lost in translation – the most famous examples of misinterpretation.

One of the most important aspects of business, politics – in fact life in general – is effective communication. Of course this can be difficult when dealing with someone who doesn’t speak your language, which is where professional and experienced translation agencies like Take Note Ltd come in.

However, history is littered with examples of people and organisations who have failed to secure the services of translators who understand completely the nuances of a certain language perfectly. Here are some of the most famous examples.

Jimmy Carter Propositions Poland

You know that moment on a first date when someone gets a bit ahead of themselves and it’s all very awkward?

On a state trip to Poland in 1977, US President Jimmy Carter explained how he wanted to learn more about the Polish people’s desires for the future, both politically and economically. Unfortunately Carter’s Polish translator, a freelance linguist named Steven Seymour, translated it into words that suggested he wanted to understand their carnal desires.

If that wasn’t enough, Seymour also translated Carter talking about returning back to America into him saying that he had abandoned America. Compounding the problem, Seymour also used numerous Russian words – a major folly in a nation who were largely anti-Russia.

Freudian Slip?

When it comes to marketing, the nature of your catchphrase or slogan can be key to getting across your core brand values. However, if you operate within a global marketplace like banking group HSBC does, you need to be sure that your catchphrase is translated appropriately.

In 2009 HSBC had to spend $10 million on a rebranding campaign after their slogan “Assume Nothing” was translated as “Do Nothing” in several countries.

Role Reversal

Sometimes mistranslations can cause more than just embarrassment, but have a permanent impact on the very culture of a nation.

Back in the 1950s, chocolate companies began encouraging couples in Japan to start celebrating Valentine’s Day, but a mistranslation from one company made it seem like the idea was for women to give chocolates to men! This practice is continued to this day, with men doing the same for their partners on March 14.

We Come in Peace

The idea of ‘Martians’, or that Mars at some time or another harboured life is a common theme throughout science fiction, and it was all down to Italian astronomer Giovanni Schiaparelli.

In 1877 Schiaparelli discovered ‘canali’, or canals on Mars’ surface. Of course canals are a manmade phenomenon, so was this proof that a civilisation once existed on Mars? It is an idea that has inspired countless works of fiction, except that it is all based on a mistranslation. ‘Canali’ doesn’t actually mean ‘canals’ at all, but ‘channels’ or ‘trenches’ – completely naturally occurring terrain.

Mistranslation leads to the death of about… oh, 250,000 people

The debate over whether the USA was right to drop the atom bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki often centres on the argument that countless soldiers would have lost their lives in a conflict with the seemingly un-surrendering Japan.

Even when the US issued the Potsdam Declaration – demanding total surrender else complete destruction – the Japanese government were unwavering. At least, that’s what the Americans thought.

Following persistent pressure for a response to the Potsdam Declaration, Japanese Premier Kantaro Suzuki called a news conference in which he effectively told the reports “No comment. We’re still thinking about it.” However the word he used for ‘no comment’ was ‘mokusatsu’, which can also mean “we’re ignoring in contempt.”

Had Suzuki made himself that little bit clearer, one of history’s darkest moments may never have happened.

This guest blog was written by John Rooney.

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• Misinterpretation
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3 responses to “the most famous examples of misinterpretation”.

I think this article could get more leverage if sources were properly mentioned. Could you please share your sources?

Also, some conclusions seem a bit simplistic, like assuming that America may have never dropped the bomb if a word had been translated differently. For irresponsible that the bomb dropping may have been from the perspective of the respect toward life, such crucial war decisions are never taken on the basis of the translation of a single isolated word.

In this regard, the mistranslation case may be true, but the inferences suggested from it seem to be a bit far-fetched.

Hi Paula, Thanks for your comment. Unfortunately this is a guest post so I don’t have the sources. I also agree on your second point: we didn’t want to imply that the bomb has been dropped following a mistranslation. We just wanted to highlight how mistranslations can happen in any fields and any contexts. Did you come across some other interesting example of mistranslation?

WUJKI. Onomatapia in English Dictionary Grammer a word that sounds like, when spoken,the word you are trying to describe “verb” and the way it sounds are both similar Idea . Crackle , Pop , and so on thus forth when all said and done. Well done Andy Collins from the usa ne hows.

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