First, let me explain the context . I work for a large NGO with a colleague from that organization. A colleague, yes, but also evidently a liaison officer, a manager within the organization, essentially my employer. Among the activities carried out was a study (evaluative, but that's not important) that dragged on for many months due to the multitude of things to do. The research report was finally published, mostly by me, and I tiredly revised and improved it several times at the urging of my colleague, who was repeatedly dissatisfied with the results presented, which, in her opinion, were inferior to the effort put in, the many innovative techniques applied, the organization's expectations, and so on. After yet another—and always wearily—review, this colleague said to me: " With all the work you've done, it almost seems like you don't care about the results anymore! " I felt like John Belushi when he "sees the light" (my colleague in the role of James Brown).

Oh, it's true! How boring it is to analyze in detail , to chew over and over that data, to waste hours on an essentially sterile activity. Sterile because the four processed data points have already framed the problem and—this is depressing— they aren't the substantial and substantive part of the research . I'll try to explain, but I know it won't be easy, especially for younger researchers, to understand this strange snobbery. Even more so for those with extensive statistical studies, for those who have delved into Big Data ... Data is useful, but only up to a certain point. Those who have followed this column know my point and won't be surprised if I say (once again, how boring!) that what matters is the thought that precedes and accompanies the research, much, much more than the data which, honestly, only very rarely have any unexpected impact. Let me try to clarify. In what sense is the thought that precedes and accompanies the research important? In the sense that, in order to meet the client's expectations (which, in an evaluative research, concerns some "political" problem – in the sense of policies ), he/she was extensively involved; the research was participatory and – here comes the point – that problem, in the representation reconstructed by the researchers, led to that method, to those research operations that, to a large extent, pre-constituted the data . The method incorporates the potential data within itself. As we said in a previous episode , the method has a theory, which concerns the context, the relationships, the problem being analyzed… The method is therefore designed to collect certain data, in a specific format , and in some way implies them.

Naturally, this happens if this research process that I call "thinking" is present . If there is a METHOD, and not a random jumble of techniques, then we move in a certain direction, we relate in a certain way and, obviously, we construct data that I would call expected. Let's be clear: not in the sense of expected percentages, or distribution of variables, but essentially in bulk. If we don't have sensational discoveries (sociologists very rarely make sensational discoveries), an honest analysis with small in-depth analyses is generally sufficient if – and only IF – we manage to convey to the client and the users of the research what really matters: the theory; that research has demonstrated – if well conducted – the validity of the approach, and therefore the validity of the theory implemented, and therefore the path, the direction, the argument, the gaze and its turning to exactly where the problem lies, or the unveiling of a small part of the world.

It is this gaze, this partial disclosure, that constructs meaning . Very rarely and with greater difficulty can data do this, which—note—are never a snapshot of reality but a synthetic and always (always!) deficient representation. To use an analogy (but only to a certain extent), data are the syntax of the reality being investigated, and, as is well known, nothing more misleading than syntax can be used to construct incorrect, if not false, information. The method outlined here (which is not the sum of operations but conceptual complexity) is instead the forge of semantic and pragmatic argumentation, that is, of the meaning we attribute to the world.

Naturally, our clients are unaccustomed to this perspective and ask for a few kilos of tables and graphs, which they generally aren't capable of reading and understanding. Better, much better, to focus on making the intelligent social actors we've involved understand not so much the value of that zero-point-percent, and why that other one isn't, and how to compare the data, and blah blah, sleepy talk, but rather how significant the direction taken is (in a semantic sense), how the object has been viewed in a way that, aside from the zero-point-percent, reveals colors, tones, and provides those questions (not those answers!) capable of guiding action (political, organizational, etc.).

And so, yes, it's true: that research was beautiful, interesting, innovative. The data is there (I never said it wasn't useful, mind you), but without obsession, without quantum-frenic frenzy (as Sorokin called it) because—translating from semiotics—the method is the data.

Claudio Bezzi