PAMELA BURNARD
University of Cambridge (England)
ELIZABETH MACKINLAY
Southern Cross University (Australia)
July 2025
Published in Action, Criticism, and Theory for Music Education 24 (4): 110–27 [pdf]. https://doi.org/10.22176/act24.4.110
Abstract: What is it to “care” and be “caring” as ethical music education researchers? Practices and principles of care have been explored critically in the domains of critical psychology, political theory, more-than-human-worlds, aesthetics, and feminist research practice. We need to do much more than integrate research ethics into music education research, but rather perform transparent practices that embody care in the ethical relationship and intra-action with others. This is key to our feminist reading of Karen Barad’s ethical response-ability. We turn to the work of Karen Barad, for whom ethics are intimately intertwined with ontology and epistemology (being, doing and knowing). Every aspect of research, including ontology, epistemology, and ethics, informs how we question, rescind control, articulate and position ourselves as well as make decisions about what to do and not to do. This article addresses the intertwining of being, doing, and knowing in the world as it applies to the ethico-onto-epistemologies that articulate the intra-active phenomena and co-constituted relations through which—as ethical music education researchers—a feminist ethics of care or the ethics of response-ability, are produced. Every intra-action matters.
Keywords: Ethico-onto-epistemology, response-ability, feminist ethics of care, intra-action
Imagine a world where the nuanced intricacies of music education are not just about the notes played or the melodies composed, but about the very essence of ethical engagement and relationality in classrooms. Envision an environment where every interaction and intra-action,[1] every choice of repertoire, and every pedagogical decision is deeply rooted in ethical considerations. Consider the impact of fostering a space where the historical and cultural contexts of the music we teach are not merely acknowledged, but actively woven into the educational tapestry. Such a world insists that, as music educators, we engage with our students not only as musicians but as ethical beings who are always already intertwined with the social, cultural, and political fabrics of our communities. We ask you to consider what the material performativities of doing and being ethical music educators, as with doing and being music education researchers, looks like? What if we were to view these roles as stewards of ethical practice? What if we think of music education and music education research as a living testament to the dynamic interplay of ethics, knowledge, and being, compelling us—as educators and researchers—to continually reflect upon and refine our approach to teaching and learning? What might performing ethical response-ability in music education research look like?
In this re-envisioned world, we recognize that every music lesson and every act of music education research is an opportunity to instill values of respect, empathy, and justice. We understand that the act of making music together can be a powerful vehicle for social change, fostering a sense of belonging and shared purpose. By embedding the performativity of ethics of response-ability into the core of our practices as music education researchers, we commit to producing research practices that both trouble and tell as a location of possibility for change (Fairchild et al. 2022). This journey challenges us to interrogate our assumptions, embrace uncertainty, and remain open to the myriad ways in which ethics can manifest in our work—and to become willfully entangled in this process. It is through this relentless pursuit of ethical responsibility, or response-ability, that we can truly transform music education, making it a force for positive change in the lives of our students and the broader community (Xie and Hebert forthcoming).
In this article, we draw on over three decades of educational research. When we pair the question “why” with the word “ethics,” it highlights the core imperative that drives our work. This is because research in teaching and learning inherently involves working with people—teachers, learners, children, students, parents, and communities—who are autonomous and dignified beings, living, laughing, crying, loving, and feeling together. Liz writes from her experiences as a white, settler-colonial, cis-gendered, feminist ethnomusicologist and educator who has been paying attention to the ethics of research for over thirty years, as with her current role as Chair of Ethics at Southern Cross University. For some time she has been thinking and wondering about ethics as heartline work (Mackinlay 2015, 2016, 2018, 2022) and is “forever on the way” (after Greene 1995, 1) to entwine this response- and sense-ability with her research praxis. She imagines a world where the two words “research” and “ethics” become one—where “resethica” lights the lamp in our spines to do the work that matters most. Pam writes from her experiences as a white, settler-colonial, cis-gendered, professional musician, educator and researcher whose interests include sociocultural and cultural studies, posthumanisms and feminist materialisms, creativities, transdisciplinaries and musics, and researching lived experiences, has been engaged in master’s and doctoral research education for over thirty years. She is passionate about the implications of caring about the things we research, caring about how we research, caring about whom we research with, and caring about researching with many different voices rather than on communities.
When we use words such as ethics, engagement, and entanglement in combination, we are deliberately invoking the work of Karen Barad, a prominent American theoretical physicist and material feminist philosopher. We position Barad’s (2003, 2007, 2012a, 2012b, 2014) work as highly relevant to the discussion of ethics in music education research, particularly her concept of “ethico-onto-epistemology,” which describes the intertwined nature of ethics, ontology, and epistemology. The concept “ethico-onto-epistemology” is crucial for understanding that ethical considerations are not separate from the practices of knowing and being but are deeply embedded within them. Barad’s ideas help us to see that ethics is not just about making the right decisions, but about being response-ably accountable for the relationships and interactions that constitute our research practices, and as such aligns with principles of ethical caring. In music education research, this means recognizing the ethical implications of our interactions with participants, the environment, and the broader social and cultural contexts in which we work. Barad’s (2012a, 2012b, 2014) emphasis on “response-ability” and “intra-actions” encourages us to think about how our research practices are co-constituted with the world around us and how our performativities take response-ability for the ethical dimensions of these practices.
In this article, we apply Barad’s concept of “ethico-onto-epistemology” to ethical caring and response-ability in music education research. As feminist music education researchers we are continually inspired by the locations of possibility opened by Barad’s thinking and wondering. We then consider Barad’s emphasis on ethical “response-ability” and “intra-actions” as a profound commitment to ethical caring and the well-being of others and the environment, as well as an insistence on caring about the application of an ethics of care in music education research: an urgent matter. We address the impact of ethical caring on the researcher’s positionality and the imperative of transparent research practices that embody care and demonstrate care in practice. In the final section, we share a set of “notes from the field” to explore the entanglements of “ethico-onto-epistemology,” “response-ability,” and “ethics of care” through the illustration of a classroom moment where performing response-abilities as a white-settler-colonial music educator was difficult, challenging, and revealed the enormous amount of work we must do to dismantle the stronghold coloniality has in Australian education. It is here that close attention is paid to the complexities of taking response-ability, with methodology serving as an open-ended co-created and co-produced space.
As we write this article, we know that we are struggling to grapple with the ethical entanglements we currently face as music education researchers, and yet it is from our experiences within the tradition of music education research that we can and must respond to the question, “What sort of world do we want to live in?” More questions begin to unfold in the search for a response. How can we take response-ability for the ethical dimensions of production, experience, and transformation in music education research? How do relationalities involve us in seeing ourselves as part of the world, appreciating the intertwining of ethics, knowing, and being in music education research? And when we are asked, quite simply and plainly, “Got ethics?,” what words do we use to frame this world in which we live and work?
Diffraction and Other Ethical Matterings
As music education researchers, we feel we have much to learn from Karen Barad (2007, 56). In Meeting the Universe Halfway, Barad (2007) coined the term “ethico-onto-epistemology” to trouble the separation of scientific knowledge production from the world and its human and non-human inhabitants, arguing that ethics, ontology, and epistemology are inseparable. She writes: “What we need is something like an ethico-onto-epistem-ology—an appreciation of the intertwining of ethics, knowing, and being—since each intra-action matters, since the possibilities for what the world may become call out in the pause that precedes each breath before a moment comes into being and the world is remade again, because the becoming of the world is a deeply ethical matter” (203).
Put another way, Barad argues that ethical considerations are inherently linked to the ways we understand and interact with the world and therefore are always already ethical. Alongside ethico-onto-epistemology, Barad (2007) suggests that such relationality emerges through “intra-activity,” that is, participants and co-researchers do not pre-exist their interaction but come to life through and with them. This type of “quantum entanglement” means that all things are interconnected, woven into the very fabric of the world, making it impossible to separate our actions from their ethical consequences. Because we two/too are implicated in this entanglement, we have a “response-ability” to consider the ethical implications of our research and actions, and for the effects our knowledge production has on the world. Both, Barad (2007) advises, “must be thought in terms of what matters and what is excluded from mattering” (394). This matter, Barad (2007) argues, is “a delicate tissue of ethicality,” which “runs through the marrow of being,” and “there is no getting away” from it (395). We are “of the universe,” she insists, and need to meet it halfway, no longer on the inside, no longer on the outside, but “intra-acting from within and as part of the world in its becoming” (2007, 396) and heeding its ethical call.
In Barad’s work on ethical mattering, we feel traces of other feminist scholars, most notably Donna Haraway, Simone de Beauvoir, Hélène Cixous, and Joan Tronto. Simone de Beauvoir and Karen Barad both emphasize the relational nature of existence and ethics. Donna Haraway extensively explores the concept of response-ability. In When Species Meet (2008), she emphasizes ethical obligations arising from human–animal relationships; in Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene (2016) she delves deeper, arguing that response-ability involves staying present with the complexities of our interconnected world.
Here we would like to pause and pay attention to the ethical possibilities of “diffractive” work in music education research. Bringing concepts from quantum mechanics and quantum field theory, Barad (2007) introduces “diffraction” as a powerful alternative to reflexivity and invites us to explore how patterns of difference are generated through the indeterminate entanglement of matter and meaning. She distinguishes between “classical” diffraction, such as the physical patterns generated by the confluence of two ocean waves, and “quantum” diffraction, where the observational apparatus of a phenomenon changes the wave pattern and alters whether the phenomenon will present as a wave or a particle. Barad (2007) states, “The very nature of materiality is an entanglement. Matter itself is always already open to, or rather entangled with, the ‘Other’” (136). Here again, the inseparability of ethics (doing), ontology (being), and epistemology (knowing) in diffractive thinking brings the world into fine detail, recognizing that our practices of knowing are material engagements that actively participate in reconfiguring the world. Barad (2007) emphasizes, “Ethics is therefore not about right response to a radically exterior/ized other, but about responsibility and accountability for the lively relationalities of becoming of which we are a part” (393). The potential of diffractive methodology to unsettle “business as usual, traditional, status quo” practices is particularly significant to us as music education researchers. By focusing on the material and discursive nature of knowledge-making practices, diffractive thinking encourages us to be mindful of the entangled nature of our existence and to act in ways that are response-able to the complexities of the world around us. In this way, diffractive thinking is deeply intertwined with an ethics of care.
In our work, we are most interested in thinking and wondering about the ethical understandings, possibilities, and obligations that emerge when we place these concepts “inside our skins” as music education researchers (Barad 2007, 410). In music, the intra-actions between equipment and environment, instrument and player, performance and audience, and research and ethics are not pre-given but are produced in each unique context. This aligns with Barad’s concept of “intra-action,” where entities emerge through their interactions rather than existing independently beforehand. The practice of performing ethics involves making specific and explicit choices that are contingent on the musical situation or context (Turchet 2023). Further, when music education research ethics finds common ground between scientific and artistic experimentation, paying radical attention to the infused process and performance of ethics in practice becomes a search in itself. Ethics, in this sense, is a set of interconnected performativities, not something one possesses or an attribute of research. It is about “response-ability”—the ability to respond and be accountable for the relationalities of which we are all a part. As Barad (2012b) suggests, “all bodies, including but not limited to human bodies, come to matter through the world’s iterative intra-activity, its performativity. Boundaries, properties, and meanings are differentially enacted through the intra-activity of musical mattering. Ethics is about this mattering” (210).
We are also interested in the situatedness of ethico-onto-epistemology inside our skins and the questions this entangled embodiment raises for our praxis. Who are we, how are we, and why are we playing in the field of music education as researchers? Should we focus our attention on the dynamic practices that play a constitutive role in the ethical mattering of the production and experience of the performer, the audience, or the transformation of the performers? As music education researchers, should we consider only the impact of the finished musical work, or should we also include the effects of the process of creating that work? As music education researchers researching creativities, how should we address possible effects or unwanted consequences that arise from the multiplicity of authorings that underpin diverse musical creation processes? How can we take response-ability for all aspects of the musical creation and performance process, recognizing our interconnectedness with the world? What are the ethical moves we need to perform to become a location of possibility change in research that appreciates the intertwining of ethics, knowing, and being in the world, as Barad suggests, and embrace an ethico-onto-epistemology in our music education research?
The Ethical Obligation of Taking Care: Why Ethics of Care Matters
Flowing inside the skin of Baradian ethics is the ethical obligation of taking care—indeed, an ethics of care is a way of knowing, being, and doing that we consider core business in our music education research praxis. The concept of an ethics of care is most readily associated with the work of feminist educator Nel Noddings. Noddings’s ethics of care is rooted in the belief that caring relationships are fundamental to human life and morality. She posits that ethical behavior originates from the natural human inclination to care for others, emphasizing that “caring involves stepping out of one’s own personal frame of reference into the other’s” (Noddings 1984, 24).
In contrast with traditional ethical theories that prioritize abstract principles and rules, Noddings’s (2002) approach is relational, focusing on empathy, responsiveness, and the context of relationships in ethical decision-making. Her work highlights the distinction between caring for (direct, personal care) and caring about (a more general concern for others’ well-being) and advocates an education system that prioritizes the development of students’ capacity to care (Noddings 1992). Further, Noddings critiques traditional ethical theories for their emphasis on justice and autonomy, which she considers more aligned with masculine approaches. In contrast, she argues that an ethics of care, emphasizing relationships and interdependence, provides a comprehensive understanding of morality (Noddings 1984). Her influential books, such as Caring: A Feminine Approach to Ethics and Moral Education (1984), The Challenge to Care in Schools (1992), and Starting at Home: Caring and Social Policy (2002), have significantly impacted discussions on moral education, social policy, and the role of care in professional practices. Noddings (1992) asserts, “The primary aim of education should be to produce competent, caring, loving, and lovable people” (51), and her ethics of care continues to be a vital framework for understanding the importance of relationships and empathy in ethical and educational practices.
Noddings’ work on an ethics of care has been taken up and extended by political scientist and feminist scholar Joan Tronto. In her influential work Moral Boundaries: A Political Argument for an Ethic of Care (1993), she argues for the importance of care beyond the private sphere, extending its significance to public life. Similarly, in Caring Democracy: Markets, Equality, and Justice (2013), Tronto explores how care ethics can inform democratic practices and policies, advocating a society that prioritizes care and mutual responsibility. Of relevance to this article is Tronto’s (1993) framing of “care,” which she defines as “a species activity that includes everything that we do to maintain, continue, and repair our ‘world’ so that we can live in it as well as possible. That world includes our bodies, ourselves, and our environment, all of which we seek to interweave in a complex, life-sustaining web” (103). This perspective challenges traditional ethical and political theories that often overlook the role of care in human life. According to Tronto (2013), “An ethic of care is an approach to personal, social, moral, and political life that starts from the reality that all human beings need and receive care and give care to others. The care relationships among humans are part of what mark us as human beings. We are always interdependent beings” (53).
The concept of an ethics of care, as explored by Noddings and Tronto, reveals a profound interconnectedness with Barad’s perspectives on relationality, response-ability, and the intertwined nature of beings. Noddings emphasizes the importance of caring relationships, positing that ethical behavior originates from the innate human drive to care for others. She asserts, “Caring involves stepping out of one’s own personal frame of reference into the other’s” (Noddings 1984, 24). This view on empathy and responsiveness is crucial to her ethics of care. Tronto extends Noddings’ ideas into the political and social spheres, advocating that care is essential to democratic life. She writes, “We need to think about democracy as the allocation of caring responsibilities” (Tronto 2013, 23). Karen Barad’s concept of intra-action aligns with this, suggesting that entities do not pre-exist their interactions but rather emerge through them. This relational ontology underscores that beings are fundamentally interconnected. Barad (2007) notes, “Boundaries, properties, and meanings are differentially enacted through the intra-activity of mattering” (89).
In her exploration of the ethics of care, Noddings places a profound emphasis on the importance of empathy and nurturing relationships. She argues passionately that “the primary goal of education should be to cultivate individuals who are competent, caring, loving, and lovable” (1992, 174). This, she contends, is the true essence of ethical response-ability. Tronto extends Noddings’ foundational ideas into the broader arenas of public policy and societal structures. She makes a compelling case for recognizing and integrating care work into our political frameworks. According to Tronto (1993), “an ethic of care requires a deep acknowledgment of the vital role that care plays in our own lives and the lives of others” (105), thereby weaving the ethics of care seamlessly into the fabric of societal response-abilities. Barad, on the other hand, introduces a nuanced notion of response-ability that intricately intertwines ethics with the very fabric of reality itself. She proposes that “ethics is fundamentally about mattering” and highlights “the entanglements of intra-acting agencies” (2007, 392). Barad’s perspective is revolutionary, as it integrates the ethics of care into ontological and epistemological practices, suggesting that ethical considerations are inherently linked to the nature of being and knowing. Together, the philosophies of Noddings, Tronto, and Barad form a rich tapestry that underscores the significance of care, relationality, and interdependence. However, these are not necessarily an easy trio to put together. It is important to acknowledge their fundamental philosophical differences. Nonetheless, the connection between their writings on care and relationality can be powerful, illustrating that ethical behavior is deeply rooted in our interconnectedness and shared responsibilities toward one another.
The way we approach and care for our subjects in music education research impacts every step of our work in making explicit the significance of every decision we make in our research (Burnard 2006). Beyond existing ethical protocols, researchers must adopt an “ethical response-ability.” As Barad (2007) suggests, “Responsibility is not an abstract affair, but a matter of what kinds of lives are possible” (110). Noddings (1984) emphasizes, “Caring-for and caring-about are essential to human life” (110), reminding us that research should not only meet ethical standards but also embody them in practice by recognizing diverse voices and power dynamics. Tronto (1993) adds another layer by reminding us that “caring is both a value and a practice” (85). By adopting this perspective, researchers perform ethical response-ability, continually questioning and re-evaluating their roles throughout the research process. This holistic approach ensures that every intra-action matters; positioning people as relational beings with relational autonomy where an ethics of care flows in reconfiguring music education for future-making (Buchborn, Burnard, Hebert and Moore 2022).
An Exemplification: Notes from the Music Educator-Researcher Field
There is one diffractive moment in my work as a music educator-researcher that has stayed with me, a moment both beautiful and haunting, yet deeply unsettling. Some time ago, I was asked to work with and research Year 2 children in a local primary school in an inner-city suburb in Brisbane, Queensland to deliver an integrated arts-history unit, focusing on the colonization of Australia and current moves toward reconciliation, firmly embedding Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander perspectives. I knew that doing this educator-researcher work with young children was urgent. I knew that this work needed to be done respectfully, relationally, and with care. I felt strongly that doing this work was my ethical responsibility as a white, settler-colonial, cis-gendered, feminist educator and researcher. Barad’s (2007) notion that “responsibility is not about right response, but rather a matter of inviting, welcoming, and enabling the response of the Other” (391) resonated deeply with me. I knew that for me, personally, this was a moment to tell a different story, as a mother to my two Yanyuwa children and as family to all those who held me close from the diaspora of Yanyuwa, Garrwa, Mara, and Kanji communities in the Northern Territory. I knew that, most of all, I wanted to tell a story that mattered to them.
As part of the unit, I decided to ground our work in song. For Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities, song is one of the most powerful ways to share knowledge and to have that knowledge become deeply embedded and embodied by people.[2] This way, we all come to care and hold this knowledge with care. The song I chose was “Yil Lull” by Joe Geia (1988), which originally appeared on his 1988 album of the same name. Joe Geia is a Gugu Yalanji man from northern Queensland, and the title means “to sing” in Gugu Yalanji language. The lyrics reflect themes of unity, resilience, and the struggles faced by Indigenous Australians. The song uses the colors of the Aboriginal flag—black, red, and yellow—to symbolize the people, the earth, and the sun, and speaks to the history of colonization and the ongoing fight for recognition and rights. The children loved the song, and by the end of the term, they were able to sing in two-part harmony. One afternoon, as we were practicing before going home, parents sitting outside waiting for their children heard them singing. Soon after the school bell sounded, complaints started coming in to the school principal. Parents did not like the references to blood, massacres, and the violence of colonization in the lyrics. I found this to be completely astounding, not least of all because of the ways that other moments in our nation’s history associated with violence (e.g., Anzac Day) are celebrated by children in schools. I could see very clearly how the “let’s sweep it under the carpet and not talk about it because it’s too hard” epistemology of ignorance was having an impact on what we were doing in relation to educating young Australians about our black history. The children were not allowed to sing the song at assembly.
Thinking diffractively, I see this moment as an incredibly entangled ethico-onto-epistemological space. When I watched the children singing “Yil Lull,” I could see on their faces what the song meant to them. Even if they did not sing it at assembly, they would remember. This had become a deep learning experience for them, helping them understand what happened in this country and why it is crucial to never forget. It underscored the importance of Australia’s current truth-telling moment in relation to treaty and reconciliation processes. I felt a deep ethical response-ability to my family and my own children to ensure that, in whatever way we could, we would keep singing that song. Even if it meant we only sang it in our classroom at the end of each day, I was committed to a pedagogy of “epistemic witnessing” (Pillow 2019)—it was me, the children, and the song. We would sing it as loud as we could, so that the knowledge remained with us. Pillow’s work on epistemic witnessing emphasizes the ethical onto-epistemological responsibility driven by a decolonial attitude and reparative reading. We would sing it as loud as we could, so that the historical knowledge of colonisation remained with us, resonating and becoming embodied in new ways of taking response-ability for who we are in relation to past and present colonial oppressions.
Teaching about the colonization of Australia and incorporating Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander perspectives presents numerous challenges, as I experienced firsthand. Reflecting on the event, I realize that this was not my finest moment in teaching—I should have fought back harder. This realization brings with it a profound sense of guilt and shame. As a white, settler-colonial educator, I am acutely aware of the ways in which my actions—or lack thereof—can perpetuate systems of domination and erasure. My initial decision to acquiesce to the parents’ objections felt like a betrayal not only of my students but also of the very principles I hold dear. This guilt is compounded by the recognition of my own complicity in a system that often prioritizes comfort over truth. The ease with which historical injustices can be swept under the rug reveals the pervasive nature of white privilege and the pedagogies of ignorance that sustain it. I think and wonder about what kind of ethics of care is being performed in this all-too-common act of erasure and suggest that care without an attentiveness to complicity with colonization, is in fact, not kind and no kind at all. My shame stems from the understanding that, in that moment, I failed to fully challenge these harmful narratives and to stand in solidarity with Indigenous communities. Sitting with these discomforts, heart-thinking[3] asks me to consider how to intertwine care with truth-telling to ensure our responses are indeed response-able. How can a pedagogy of care create spaces where truth is honored and shared with empathy? In what ways can fostering empathy in our truth-telling practices deepen our connection and commitment to justice and solidarity?
The decision to continue singing “Yil Lull” within the confines of the classroom, despite the pushback, enacted a type of epistemic disobedience and witnessing against the erasure of Indigenous histories and voices. It was a reaffirmation of our commitment to truth telling and reconciliation, a small yet significant act of defiance against the forces of ignorance and apathy. As Pillow (2019) argues, epistemic witnessing involves an ethico-onto-epistemological response-ability driven by a decolonial attitude and reparative reading. By choosing not to shy away from this contentious topic, I took a step toward fostering a deeper understanding among the students about colonization in Australia, and how it was, and is still, experienced by Indigenous Australians. They learned that history is not merely a collection of dates and facts but a living narrative that shapes our collective present and future becomings. This realization is crucial as it encourages young minds to question, to empathize, and to seek out the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it may be.
The resistance from parents highlighted the societal reluctance to confront the painful aspects of history. This reluctance creates a complex ethical landscape for educators, as they navigate between respecting community concerns and upholding their moral duty to provide an inclusive and truthful education. It is worth pausing for a moment to contemplate the inter/intra-relations in this context. Must there be an us/them dichotomy between educators and parents, or are these two aspects of care ethics being negotiated? Both parties arguably have the best interests of children at heart. Therefore, how can we employ Barad’s framework to explore new diffractive possibilities that benefit all stakeholders? By acquiescing to parents’ objections, educators risk perpetuating “pedagogies of ignorance” (Malewski and Jaramillo 2011), a necessary by-product of knowledge production in the construction of curriculum and teaching practices, which easily slide from complicity to oppression despite educators’ liberatory intentions. Moreover, the incident underscored the power dynamics within educational institutions and the broader community. Parents often wield significant influence over school policies, which can stymie efforts to introduce more inclusive and accurate historical narratives. This creates a delicate balance between maintaining respectful relations with the community and fulfilling an ethical obligation to educate about historical truths. Perhaps, using Karen Barad’s concept of diffraction, we can explore new possibilities that transcend the binary opposition between educators and parents. Barad’s diffractive methodology encourages us to see these interactions as entangled and mutually constitutive rather than oppositional. This approach allows us to recognize the shared goal of caring for children’s well-being while also addressing the complexities of power dynamics and ethical responsibilities. By embracing a diffractive perspective, we can foster a more collaborative and nuanced approach to education that honors both the voices of parents and the professional insights of educators, ultimately creating a more inclusive and just educational environment
In continuing to sing “Yil Lull” within the confines of the classroom, we enacted a form of resistance, ensuring that the children grasped the importance of truth telling and reconciliation. This experience was a powerful reminder of the transformative potential of education and the role of educators as agents of change. Through our actions, we demonstrate to our students that their voices matter, their pursuit of knowledge is noble, and they, too, have the power to make a difference. Ultimately, this experience reinforced the necessity of advocating curricular changes that genuinely reflect diverse histories and experiences. It also highlighted the ongoing struggle for truth and reconciliation and the vital role that education, particularly music education, and music education research, plays in this process. The difficulties encountered in researching and teaching this knowledge are a testament to the enduring resistance to acknowledging and addressing historical injustices, but they also emphasize the importance of perseverance and commitment to fostering a more just and equitable society (Mackinlay and Powell 2016).
Closing thoughts
As we draw our conversation to a close, we invite you once more to imagine a world. Imagine a world where the principles of ethical response-ability, ethical obligation, and an ethics of care are woven into the very fabric of music education research. In this world, we, as music education researchers, recognize the deep interconnections between ethics, ontology, and epistemology, understanding that every intra-action and decision carries profound ethical significance. We embrace our response-abilities, holding ourselves accountable for the impact of our work on the world and the communities we engage with. Karen Barad (2007) reminds us that “responsibility is not about right response, but rather a matter of inviting, welcoming, and enabling the response of the Other” (391). This perspective encourages us to see our ethical obligations as dynamic and relational, rather than static and rule bound. Imagine a world where the ethics of care forms the bedrock of our practice, prioritizing empathy, responsiveness, and relationality over abstract principles and rigid rules. In this world, we, as researchers, adopt diffractive methodologies, explore the entangled nature of matter and meaning, and recognize that our practices of knowing are material engagements that actively participate in reconfiguring the world.
Joan Tronto (2013) reminds us that “we need to think about democracy as the allocation of caring responsibilities” (19), suggesting that our research practices should reflect a commitment to shared care and mutual responsibility. In this re-envisioned world, music education research becomes a force for positive change, fostering a sense of belonging, respect, and justice. In this world, we continually reflect on and refine our approach, in a lifelong commitment to creating a more just and equitable world through our work as researchers, practitioners and caring communities performing ethical response-ability.
Implications for researchers and practitioners who are looking to reflect upon (y)our ethical research practice and (y)our work more ethically remember that where “I am from” the performance of ethical response-ability originate and find roots in your cultural and personal context. This means we need to reflect on how our background and experiences shape our understanding of ethics. We need to constantly ask ourselves questions and to work with these reflections if we are to perform ethical response-ability in music education research. Drawing inspiration from and to further guidance for how to better imagine Baradian ethical imperatives that promote justice, inclusivity, and responsiveness in our research practices, we can choose to pay close attention in actions, words and writing and to be mindful and reflexive in our re-search in music education.
About the Authors
Pamela Burnard is Professor of Arts, Creativities and Educations at the Faculty of Education, University of Cambridge, UK. She has published widely with 25 books and over 150 articles which advance theories and practices of pluralising creativities across education sectors including early years, primary, secondary, further and higher/further education, through to creative and cultural industries. Her most recent books include Eruptive Research: Changing Landscapes on Research in Teaching and Learning’ and ‘The Power of Pluralising Creativities’ (Brill-i-Sense). She is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts (RSA) and the Chartered College of Teaching, UK. She is co-editor of Music Educational Research.
Elizabeth Mackinlay is a Professor in the Faculty of Education at Southern Cross University, Queensland, Australia. She holds a PhD in Ethnomusicology from the University of Adelaide (1998) and a PhD in Education from The University of Queensland (2003). Liz’s current research focuses on gender, decoloniality and education—more specifically, feminism and higher education, issues of consent education in universities and university residential colleges, and decoloniality in the academy. Liz brings an interdisciplinary teaching background which include music and arts education, Indigenous Studies and education, and Gender Studies. Liz is the Deputy Chair of Ethics at SCU. Externally she sits on the editorial board of the journal Qualitative Research and is the Ethics section editor for the Routledge Encyclopedia of Qualitative Research. She is also the founder of DRAW: Departing Radically in Academic Writing.
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[1] Interaction points at two units relating with each other. Intra-action points at how the relationship is onologically prior. Intra-action is a Baradian term used to replace ‘interaction,’ which necessitates pre-established bodies that then participate in action with each other.
[2] The work of Catherine Ellis provides historical insight into the ways in which the colonial world began to recognize the ontological, epistemological, social, political and philosophical significance of song for Indigenous Australians. See Catherine J. Ellis. 1994. Introduction powerful songs: Their placement in aboriginal thought. World of Music 36 (1): 3–20; Catherine J. Ellis. 1985. Aboriginal music: Education for living: Cross-cultural experiences from South Australia. University of Queensland Press. More recent work by Indigenous music scholars such as Candace Kruger and Clinton Bracknell provide significant decolonial perspectives on the significance of song. See Candace Kruger. 2017. In the Bora Ring: Yugambeh language and Song Project-an investigation into the effects of participation in the “Yugambeh Youth Choir,” an Aboriginal language choir for urban Indigenous children. A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements of the degree, Master of Arts Research, Griffith University. Bracknell, Clinton. 2022 Rock band: A third, brave space for Indigenous language. In Musical Collaboration Between Indigenous and Non-Indigenous People in Australia, edited by Katelyn Barney, 23–42. Routledge.
[3] Heart-thinking emphasises intuition, emotion, and the body’s feelings and signals. In essence, heart-thinking is a recognition of the heart’s role in our decision-making and intuitive processes (Sinclair 2018).