And We Are Still Walking … When a Protest Walk Becomes a Step Towards Research on the Move

Abstract: In June 2005, we joined about one hundred other participants in the No One Is Illegal March on Ottawa. This 200-kilometer march was organized by Solidarity Across Borders and non-status immigrants living in Canada. This paper tells the story of this march and of the people who participated in the week-long event, which was part of a movement to defend the rights of non-status immigrants in Canada. Our desire to tell this story stems from the fact that we are still actively participating in this march in many different ways. We would like to trace some of the connections between what is really two stories: one that relates the actual march, and another that describes a documentary we made and a research project we are conducting on the march. Finally, this paper gives us an opportunity to experiment with a style of writing and publication that allows us to use both images and text in order to bring seldom-heard voices—those of non-status immigrants—into the public sphere. In so doing, we wish to present not only some of our work, but also some of the people who were involved in the march and whose thoughts and actions inspired our work.

Key words: protest walk, non-status immigrants, recognition, civic engagement, Canada

Utopia is on the horizon: when I walk two steps, it takes two steps back …I walk ten steps, and it is ten steps further away.What is utopia for? It is for this, for walking.

When we started to think about publishing a paper about the No One Is Illegal March on Ottawa²⁾ we had no specific journal in mind. We had never heard of writing performatively, but we definitely knew that we wanted to find a dissemination device that would allow us to convey the multitude of impressions, feelings and ideas that were inspired by participating in the march³⁾. We wanted to talk about the people we had met, and we wanted to make sure that their voices would be included in "our" paper other than simply as excerpts from interviews. We wanted our readers to meet the people we had walked with, to get to know them in the same way we had over the eight days of the walk: not as victims, but as actors with the capacity to act, even in situations of exclusion (BRATMAN, 2007; ESSED, FRERKS & SCHRIJVERS, 2004; GIDDENS, 1984; RANCIÈRE, 1995) and in what AGAMBEN (2005, 1997, 1995) has called "spaces of exception," that is, spaces where individuals are denied access to the political sphere. During the walk, we were struck by the intensity of the civic engagement of many of the participants who had no legal status in Canada whatsoever. These people "without citizenship" (in the legal sense of the term) took part not only in the march, but also in every aspect of its organization. Their participation in the project—even when experience had shown them the risk of speaking out to defend one's rights—was for us a true example of active citizenship. [1]

The families and individuals who took part in the walk came from various backgrounds and communities and spoke many different languages. Some had been waiting to be granted legal status for a few months; others, for several years. Some had just recently received their papers, while others were Canadian-born citizens. Some participants joined the walk because they were directly affected by their lack of legal status, while others—allies, friends and militants—participated in order to show support. Within the group, however, there was no distinction made between citizens and non-citizens. As far as everyone involved was concerned, civic belonging had nothing to do with having proof of Canadian citizenship, but rather with the efforts non-status immigrants⁴⁾ had made—often over a period of several years—to become a part of their host community in spite of many obstacles. So, when we thought about writing a paper about the March on Ottawa, we wanted to show how, for the participants, sharing an experience as meaningful as the march had reinforced their conviction that "waiting for papers" did not mean "waiting to belong." We wanted to write a paper that, like the march itself, would take into account other aspects of what it means to be a citizen: the desire to belong to a group, to develop social ties, to seek out opportunities for integration or rebuilding a life, to participate in the community and in social and political struggles against injustice and exclusion. Or maybe we just wanted our readers to accompany us on the march, to see if they could distinguish the legal Canadian citizens from those who did not have official citizenship papers just by looking at the participants. But one thing was sure, we wanted our paper to be the kind of text that would "criticize the world the way it is, and offer suggestions about how it could be different" (DENZIN, 2001, p.24). Once we had returned home, however, we had no idea how to write such a paper. So we didn't, deciding to produce a documentary on the march instead. [2]

It was only much later that we heard about the FQS Special Issue on Performative Social Science. A colleague brought it to our attention, thinking that our work might fit the description of the "Call for Abstracts," as we are interested in the relational aspect of research that does not pretend to stand outside its object but rather with the people we work with and alongside our audience. We share John LAW and John URRY's belief that "research methods in the social sciences do not simply describe the world as it is, but also enact it" because "they have effects; they make differences; they enact realities; and they can help to bring into being what they also discover" (LAW & URRY, 2004, pp.392-393). Our colleague also knew that we were interested in challenging traditional academic traditions by creating new tools to disseminate our work and our results, as we had the intention of trying to present some of our results in a documentary format.⁵⁾ [3]

Although we are still not entirely sure what "performative social science" is, we are committed to contributing our understanding of what it might be, or at least what it means to us at this point in time. Our article is therefore an experiment for which the reading and writing conventions have not yet been established. As we know, however, there is an inherent uncertainty and tension in experiments that can both motivate and destabilize (EISNER, 2005), and there was certainly no shortage of uncertainty during our writing process! For example, we wanted to leave a lot of room in our article for audiovisual clips that had been filmed during and after the march in order to allow the participants to be both "heard" and "seen" throughout the article, just as they had sought to be in choosing to take part in the No One Is Illegal march⁶⁾. [4]

We did not know, however, to what extent our readers would agree to alternate between the text and the embedded videos. If they decided to play along, we didn't want them to have to reread what had already been expressed in the video clips. But if a reader was not interested in playing the game, it would difficult for him or her to follow our train of thought in the article. We wondered, for example, if we should include a written summary of the content of the embedded videos, but decided against it. After several attempts at organizing the structure of the article, we decided to let the images and voices of the people we filmed during the walk "lead" the text. We decided that some of the sections would start with an embedded video, in which the participants in the march would speak directly "to" the reader⁷⁾, sharing some of their reflections on the walk. In some sections, we also speak to the reader to explain what we have done since the march. But we also decided that other sections would be introduced by a few words from a quotation that would segue into an embedded video. In such cases, we wouldn't add any written text, since the "visual" text—which, although expressed in the voices of others, clearly included our own voice in the form of editing choices—had said what needed to be said. This exploration of the possibilities offered by the intersection between images and writing forms part of our effort to create spaces for voices that, although generally ignored and forgotten, are no less reflexive than our own.

"For them [critical sociologists], actors do not see the whole picture but remain only 'informants.' This is why they have to be taught what is the context 'in which' they are situated and 'of which' they see only a tiny part, while the social scientist, floating above, sees the 'whole thing.' The excuse for occupying such a bird's eye view is usually that the scientists are doing 'reflexively' what the informants are doing 'unwittingly.' But even this is doubtful. The little awareness that social scientists may gather is exacted out of the reflexive group formation of those they simply, at this point of their inquiry, use like a parasite. In general, what passes for reflexivity in most social sciences is the sheer irrelevancy of questions raised by the analyst about some actors' serious concerns. As a rule, it's much better to set up as the default position that the inquirer is always one reflexive loop behind those they study" (LATOUR, 2005, pp.32-33). [5]

In the next three sections of this paper, we will present a chronicle of how our participation in the No One Is Illegal—March on Ottawa led us to other projects that represent our way of continuing to walk. We'll talk about the path that started with our participation in the walk and led us to the making of a documentary and, later on, to a research project. In the final section describing the research project, we will also present some of our results on the meanings and impacts of the walk using a few excerpts from a video document we are currently working on. [6]

"Today marks the beginning of the No One Is Illegal March on Ottawa. We'll be starting in a few minutes. We're going to walk for eight days until we get to Ottawa ..."

In June 2005, some 100 people participated in a march that began in Montreal and finished eight days later on Parliament Hill in Ottawa. Participants had four demands: the regularization of all non-status people in Canada, an end to deportations, an end to detentions, and the abolition of security certificates. As the non-status immigrants reminded us during the press conference, this march, like many marches before it, was as much an expression of indignation in the face of injustice as a desire to be visible and be heard. After years of fighting for status and struggling against deportation practices, people literally took to the streets because they wanted to call public attention to the fact that non-status immigrants are not only working, but virtually living on the black market. Through this collective act of protest, participants also wanted to recall other marches of exiled peoples, forced marches, and marches of displaced populations around the world. [7]

We joined this march for many reasons, some of which we are still unaware. To begin with, we wanted to walk to support the claims that migrants throughout the world have been trying to put forward in many ways: protesting against immigration policies, defying the building of walls, crossing borders at the risk of their lives, working on the black market, and trying to make a new life for themselves in many corners of the world. We heard about the walk while interviewing refugees in connection with another project on the civic engagement of immigrants and refugees. We started to attend the planning meetings, and soon began to think about joining the walk and taking our camera along. Being part of such an experience and capturing it on video would give us an opportunity to use images and words to illustrate the civic engagement of people who, because of their lack of legal status and papers, are often excluded from the public sphere. [8]

So we joined a small group of people who were living in Montreal, Canada, a country which has the reputation of being very welcoming to migrants. This march was not a huge demonstration like those in the United States or France we had seen on television. In fact, while we were walking we all remarked on how "Canadian" the walk was: everyone was very polite to the authorities, respected instructions, and was careful not to trespass on private property along the small country roads that we took or leave cigarette butts and sandwich wrappers in the grassy areas where we stopped to rest. Our march was very small and well-behaved. Not that it didn't have its noisy moments, with people chanting and spectacles designed to attract the attention of passers-by. In fact, the march was actually like a lengthy stage production with different acts and costumes, taking place over a distance of 200 kilometers. [9]

At the beginning of the walk, we filmed whatever caught our attention—pastoral scenes, people walking down country roads and beside highways, festive moments and militant moments. We captured interactions among participants, games and activities related to day-to-day organization (meals, information meetings, first aid, etc.). Over the next few days of spontaneous conversation with our co-marchers, however, certain themes began to take shape, and decisions were made to talk to people about specific subjects or film specific moments that were of interest. In all, we conducted some 40 interviews of varying length, for a total of about 30 hours of footage over eight days. Some conversations focused on people's motivations for taking part in the walk—those who were directly concerned and others who were walking 200 kilometers to support the claims and struggle of non-status immigrants. We also became interested in the practical organization of the march, and in the countless examples of ingenuity demonstrated by participants in all sorts of situations (ensuring safety on the road, dealing with unexpected events, and so on). [10]

At the end of the walk, we filmed the few thousand demonstrators who came from many regions of Canada to join us for the last 10 kilometers before we arrived in Ottawa. We filmed the exhilaration on the faces of the people as they crossed the bridge leading to the Parliament buildings, and we also captured the many speeches given by non-status people on Parliament Hill. One thing we were not able to film, however, was the meeting between the demonstrators and the then Minister of Immigration, the Honorable Joe VOLPE. Although the participants had hoped to be able to present their four demands to the Canadian Minister of Immigration in person, when they arrived on Parliament Hill, they found nothing but the usual hoardes of tourists. The immigration minister was nowhere in sight, in spite of the many letters that had been sent and contacts that had been made by the organizers to inform the minister of the march and of their desire to have their demands acknowledged by the Minister when they arrived in Ottawa. A day earlier, a delegation had tried in vain to obtain a meeting with Mr. VOLPE in his Ottawa office. Their only contact was a five-minute meeting with a civil servant, to whom they gave the document presenting the participants' demands. As for the mainstream media, journalists barely covered the march, in spite of all the organizers' efforts to keep them informed and invite them to meet up with the march at several points between Montreal and Ottawa. They appeared on a couple of occasions to interview some of the non-status participants, but devoted no more than a few lines to the march in the press. When the march reached Parliament Hill, none of the mainstream media was represented. [11]

When they returned to Montreal, many people reflected on what an enormous undertaking the march had been. Organizers had spent six months preparing for this event: contacting community organizations to look after meals, making agreements with the churches, schools and community centers that granted us overnight accommodation along the route, informing the police of our route, doing outreach across the country, along the main route and in Montreal, and organizing all the logistics needed for a week-long march: physical training, childcare, supplies, setting up events along the way, and more. For a whole week, we had marched from the immigrant neighborhoods of Montreal to Parliament Hill in Ottawa, via the highways, waterways and streets of Quebec and Ontario. But in spite of all our efforts, our march and our demands were ignored by the government—most particularly by Immigration Minister Joe VOLPE—the mainstream media, and the general public. [12]

For us, however, as for many of our fellow participants, the walk did not end when we reached Ottawa. On our return to Montreal, we sought out new public spaces where our demands could be expressed and, hopefully, heard. Certain participants in the walk continued their struggle by organizing other protests, some took part in those activities, others could not because it was a struggle just to survive from day to day, and some have since been deported from Canada. As for us, we spent the year following the walk making a documentary entitled Citizens Without Papers. By putting people who usually live behind the scenes at centre stage, our documentary attempted to make private voices heard on public roads, in the same way the walk had tried to do. [13]

These words, spoken by Amir, one of the non-status immigrants who marched in the No One Is Illegal March on Ottawa, accompany the opening sequence of our documentary. Amir's words stayed with us the whole time we were working on our film; whenever we heard them, we were moved by them, as were our audiences every time we screened the documentary. We interpreted his words, giving them meaning. For us, they expressed one of the most important achievements of the march: that the very act of walking in protest enabled many participants to reconstruct an identity for themselves other than the one the host society assigned to refugees, non-status people and immigrants. [14]

The documentary was meant to serve as a record of the march and the demands for which it stood. Generally speaking, our objective was to tell the story of a community "on the move," a community made up of people who lived with the daily injustice and exclusion that result from their situation as non-status immigrants and refugees—a community that also included people who, although they were not directly affected, shared values that made it impossible for them to remain silent before the unjust fate of others. As Patrick, one of the participants, explained, "Although I am not subjected to the same injustice that non-status immigrants are subjected to, I am walking because I cannot ignore my responsibility to others." We, too, saw the making of our documentary as a way to "not ignore our responsibility to others." [15]

The documentary also helped us gain hands-on understanding of one of the citizenship practices of non-status immigrants: the organization of the No One Is Illegal march. At a time when citizenship is still largely apprehended as a legal concept, we wanted our film to show that this perception no longer reflects current social and political realities. It ignores other dimensions of citizenship, such as how citizenship is linked to identity and how it originates in an individual's desire to play an active role in a community, in a subjective sense of identity (ISIN & NIELSEN, 2007; LEWIS, 2000; MARESCHAL, 2004; VERONIS, 2006; WEINSTOCK, 2000). Our documentary illustrates that citizenship can be defined not only "in relation to citizenship as a status (historical status in relation to nation-state) but also, crucially, in relation to citizenship as an active practice" (INCA, 2006, p.21, authors' emphasis). In this sense, the narrative of the film differs from the stories of non-status immigrants usually told in Canada: in order to obtain the right to stay in this country they must accept the role of "victim." Although we had no intention of denying the often traumatic experiences of these people, we wanted our documentary to present other dimensions of their identities. The narrative of the documentary was built around the answers that people gave us when we asked them (towards the end of the walk),

Each sequence began with people answering that question and with excerpts from interviews, moving into a series of images and conversations related to the theme of the given sequence. This structure freed us from a strictly chronological description of the eight days of the walk. Instead, we were able to switch from one moment of the walk to another, guided by what had been meaningful to the walkers rather than a linear framework. [16]

Our desire to make a documentary in which people could speak for themselves did not free us from having to reflect on the ethical aspects of our work. So while we were working on our film we were preoccupied with questions related to the ethics of representation. Such questions as "How are we representing these people? Whose story is it? Whose voice is it? Were we successful in opening our work to the voices of the participants in the walk?" were constantly on our minds. Although we cannot claim to have found the answers to all these questions, it was a great relief to see the enthusiastic reaction of the audience when the film was first shown to No One Is Illegal participants in March 2006 (almost a year later) during an event organized during Action Week Against Racism in Montreal. We had continued to be very involved with many of the people who had walked to Ottawa, and although many of them had seen and commented on our work during the editing process, this public screening marked the first time that we had had an opportunity to meet up with many of them again. The documentary was extremely well received by the participants in the walk: they felt they had been portrayed "in a different way." Rather than portray them as victims, the documentary honors and celebrates their struggles, resistance, sense of humor, capacity for action, and desire to produce an alternative narrative about their experience. [17]

Many of the people who saw the film also commented on how we had managed to show how participation in the walk had transcended the borders of ethnic belonging, of belonging to a specific community. This was important to them—and to us—since that was one of the specific objectives of the organizers of the walk, who had hoped it would help to forge bonds between different groups and communities. People who saw the film also talked about how it could provoke reflection on the contributions immigrants and refugees make to our society. Although the theme of immigrants' civic participation has made an occasional appearance in the Canadian media over the past few years, it is more often than not focused solely on their defending the rights and interests of their individual ethnic communities. As the writer Seyhmus DAGTEKIN⁸⁾ so eloquently put it,

"Our universe today is full of borders and all manner of barriers. We come from one culture, one language, one country; we cannot easily slip into those of others. I do not share this vision. The Other is not a stranger to me; I simply do not know him. If I make the effort, he can become known to me. […] When I arrived in France, […] I did not arrive with my limits. I came as an open territory" (quoted in BÉDARIDA, 2004, p.3). [18]

We believe that it is this "open territory" that non-status immigrants inhabit and explore that we were able to help chart in our documentary. [19]

After completing the documentary, we could have very well decided that our work was completed and stopped there. But while editing the material for Citizens Without Papers, watching the images of people we had accompanied on the march, we were continually drawn back into the experience of the march, to our desire to continue to give a voice to people who are too often excluded from the public sphere. Maybe we were simply being nostalgic, but the making of the documentary no longer seemed sufficient: we wanted to make a further contribution through research. While we were working on the film, we applied for and obtained a small research grant to analyze the many meanings and repercussions of the walk from a "multi-voice" perspective, with contributions from non-status immigrants, activists and academics. [20]

One of the inspirations for our research process was the work of Axel HONNETH (2006, 2004) and Emmanuel RENAULT (2004a, 2004b) on the delineation of the theory of recognition. HONNETH and RENAULT argue that the ever-increasing denial of recognition, which includes the denial of rights and identities, is the new form of social injustice, a category that Alain CAILLÉ (2007) claims is the new social phenomenon of the 2000s. Our strongest motivation, however, was the silence that had surrounded the march. Although the act of speaking out is one of the first steps toward being heard, there is no guarantee that anyone will listen. By walking 200 kilometers, people had "spoken their mind" in the hope of finding an audience—the government, the media—that would listen to what they had to say. But the audience never showed up. We therefore hoped that our research project would act as a transmitter for the voices of those for whom the No One Is Illegal march represented an act of visibility. As researchers, we have opportunities to make people acknowledge injustice through public conferences and other forms of dissemination of our research results. We wanted to create dissemination tools that would enable those who actually experience social injustice to speak to audiences to which they have little access, and to take advantage of communication channels (such as conferences and academic journals) that are generally inaccessible to people living on the margins of society. [21]

We felt it was important to include the participants in the walk in the process of reflecting on its various meanings and impacts. Our work has always been firmly grounded in participatory research, and this methodological choice gave us a way to reflect on a collective action which, at first glance, did not seem to have had the desired effect. With the help of a few participants, we organized a focus group of seven people, some of whom had been on the march and some who hadn't, but who were interested and involved in immigration issues as researchers or militants. We showed Citizens Without Papers to the group, and filmed the resulting interactions. We also re-examined all our footage to find excerpts when participants were talking about their reasons for joining the march, the purpose of the march, its personal and collective repercussions, the solidarity and personal connections that grew out of the experience, the symbolic act of walking, and the media coverage—or, rather, non-coverage—of the event and the participants' analysis of this indifference. [22]

The remaining pages of this paper will be devoted to some of the preliminary results of our work. Our intention is to explore some of the meanings that participants in the walk have given to their eight-day journey between Montreal and Ottawa. Although all of them began the walk as individuals with their own personal and political reasons for taking part in this collective action, the act of walking together created a community. Over the course of the march, new reasons for walking emerged. Those reasons now had a name and a story—Khader, Eric, the Arrellano family—people for whom the marchers' demands were not abstract or theoretical, but intimately connected to their daily experiences of exploitation, poverty, insecurity and indignity. We will also look at how non-status immigrants and their allies who had Canadian citizenship developed a "collective embodiment of dignity" by walking together. Having lived an extra-ordinary experience together, the people participating in the walk will reflect on their understanding of certain repercussions of the walk: the creation of solidarity, the shared feeling of having taken part in the construction of a social movement to defend the rights of immigrants, the importance of visibility and the construction of a shared community for the participants. For many of the marchers—whether non-status immigrants or Canadian citizens—the experience of being acknowledged by others was cathartic, in spite of the lack of recognition from the government and the media.

"The march gave people who are so excluded from public life
that they are virtually invisible ..."

"The future is seen not as inexorable but as something that is constructed by people engaged together ..."

"The future is seen not as inexorable but as something
that is constructed by people engaged together ..." [23]

[…] "This is the act of walking for me; I am walking to revive, to collect my pieces again."

As we listened once more to Amir's words while writing this paper, we realized that we, too, had been "walking to collect our pieces." We gradually realized that these words were an eloquent expression of our feelings about an experience that was just beginning when we left Montreal to walk to Ottawa in June 2005. Since then, we have walked, made new friends, made a film, conducted a research study, and made another film to present our results. We have watched the same images over and over again, editing and re-editing the same 30 hours of footage, always with the same goal: to draw attention to the fact that non-status immigrants do not simply accept the social marginality imposed on them, but actively try to make a place for themselves within their host society. We have given presentations at many conferences and screened the documentary at several events. So when we come back to the words of Amir, we realize that we have been moving, too—not all over Egypt, but all over our material, collecting our pieces and creating bodies of work. If non-status immigrants walked to reclaim their dignity, we believe that our participation in the march and the people we met have given meaning and dignity to our projects. Like all the participants in the walk, we have not been walking alone. Like them, we are still walking.

"There is no finish line in the act of walking. There is a beginning, a development and an apparent conclusion that becomes a new beginning and the start of a new experience." (TAMAYO & CRUZ, 2003, p.110) [24]

2) The march was organized by Solidarity Across Borders a Montreal-based network engaged in the struggle for justice and the dignity of immigrants and refugees. <back>

3) Merdad HAGE and Guylaine RACINE participated in the actual march, and Karoline TRUCHON joined us in the research project and the production of the DVD presenting the results of our research. <back>

4) In Canada, this term is used by human rights defense groups and by immigrants themselves to refer to any of several categories of immigrants who do not have legal status in Canada: asylum seekers, undocumented immigrants and immigrants from moratorium countries. It is also the term we will use in this article. <back>

5) This video is one of the dissemination tools of the research project. It will be 60 minutes long and will be divided in seven chapters, each one related to one of the research themes. Three hundred copies will be distributed to various representatives of the research community, media, political groups, and public organizations and NGOs working on behalf of non-status immigrants in Canada. <back>

6) The walk was a public event: people wanted to be seen. They were walking to draw attention to a cause that was important to them, so they organized and took part in press conferences and, in many cases, gave interviews to the media. Be that as it may, we have nonetheless been careful to obtain—on camera and/or paper—the consent of everyone we interviewed in the documentary and during the research project. Although it was impossible to foresee all the possible consequences or implications of appearing in a documentary or on the FQS website, we gave people as much information as we could on how they would be portrayed and what we would be writing and saying. In addition, several of the participants had the opportunity to see the work in progress and comment on it. Although we cannot claim to be free of ethical responsibility—which goes well beyond the strict limitations of informed consent—we feel our approach allowed us to use every possible opportunity for exchanges with the people concerned. <back>

7) In using this strategy, we didn’t want to imply that since the people were speaking in their own voice, what they were saying was more "truthful" than if we had paraphrased their words in writing. We do not share the aesthetic objectivity so dear to countless documentary filmmakers (not to mention the researcher’s quest for truth), who believe they have captured objective reality simply because they are interviewing "real" people talking about "real" situations (TRINH, 1991, quoted in DENZIN, 2001). Our intentions were less loftythan the pursuit of truth. As we have already mentioned, our main objective was to contribute to the participants’ efforts to make themselves visible in the public sphere by making their presence "visually noticeable" to our readers. <back>

8) Taken from a conversation with Seyhmus DAGTEKIN originally published in Le Monde and translated here from the original French. <back>

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Guylaine RACINE is an associate professor in the school of social work at Université de Montréal, in Montreal.

Faculté des arts et des sciences, École de service social
Université de Montréal
C.P. 6128, succursale Centre-ville
Montréal QC H3C 3J7
Canada

Karoline TRUCHON is a Ph.D. student in anthropology at Université Laval, Québec. Her research interests include issues of citizenship, recognition and representations with/and for marginalized people.

Département d'anthropologie
Université Laval
Bureau 3431
Pavillon Charles-De Koninck
Cité Universitaire
Québec, Canada, G1K 7P4

Merdad HAGE has an MFA from Concordia University, Montreal, and is an independent filmmaker based in Montreal.

Racine, Guylaine; Truchon, Karoline & Hage, Merdad (2008). And We Are Still Walking … When a Protest Walk Becomes a Step Towards Research on the Move [24 paragraphs]. Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung / Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 9(2), Art. 16,
http://nbn-resolving.de/urn:nbn:de:0114-fqs0802293.

Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung / Forum: Qualitative Social Research (FQS)

ISSN 1438-5627

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