Building an alternative conceptualization of participation: from shared decision-making to acting and work

ABSTRACT

The paper presents an alternative conceptualization of participation in order to offer legitimation and guidance for (new) scholars, policymakers and citizens, and to prepare them for the work that needs to be done to develop genuine participation practices that bring about positive change. Metaphors like the participation ladder not only explain and shape our communication but also shape the way we think and act. Metaphors can shape our perceptions and actions in ways we do not notice. So if we believe the critiques are correct and that participation encompasses much more than a hierarchical set of social relations that are devoid of context, we need an alternative lens that prepares us for the right expectations and unanticipated actions. Inspired by the work of the German philosopher Hannah Arendt, we shift away from a focus of participation ladders in decision-making to foreground acting and work instead, as this might help to overcome some of the current obstacles to designing genuine collaborative processes.

KEYWORDS:

• Participatory action research
• co-creation
• social change
• participation model
• Hannah Arendt
• inclusion

Introduction

Bringing science, policy and practice together in a truly collaborative project is not easy. It requires finding ways of communicating that move beyond professional and technical language and creating genuine opportunities to contest dominant socio-cultural values and patterns in order to enact positive social change. The political scientist Sherry Arnstein (1969) directed her description of participation towards the power struggle between government officials and community activists, defining participation as ‘the redistribution of power that enables the have-not citizens, presently excluded from the political and economic processes, to be deliberately included in the future’ (1969, 216). She stated: ‘Participation is not a unitary concept, but is more accurately depicted as a hierarchically ordered set of social relations ranging from “manipulation” through “consultation” and “involvement” right up to “empowerment”’ (Arnstein 1969). The idea is that a ladder could help to critically analyse what she called a ‘confused issue’.

Fifty years later, the ladder metaphor, though criticized for its supposed hierarchy and for not providing insights into how participation might be progressed (Reddy and Ratna 2002; Collins and Ison 2006; Cornwall 2008; Carpentier 2016), is still often used. The popularity of this metaphor might be explained by its simplicity; the ladder presents, in pictorial form, the differences in the forms of participation that are desired or which result. It shows the power of images to transcend the, in this case, limited scientific culture of communication and the need to clarify what, for many scholars and policymakers, is still a confused issue. One might even argue that participation has become even more complex since scholars have learned how dynamic and situational participation processes are, how difficult it is to alter power relations and routines in practice, and that good intentions do not always lead to the desired outcomes (Cooke and Kothari 2001, Abma et al., 2019b; Banks and Brydon-Miller 2019; Dedding et al. 2020). It is precisely this situatedness, complexity and the necessary reflexive process that have not been articulated in participation ladders. The concept of a ladder thus restricts legitimation and guidance for (new) scholars, policymakers and citizens, leaving them ill-prepared for the work that needs to be done to develop genuine participation practices that bring about positive change. This work is extensive but easily overlooked and only partially described. In practice there is a growing demand for manuals and concrete tips and tricks for starting participatory practices, which is what the ladder is used for. However, this focus leaves out the unexpected situations and surprises that characterize human life and human action as well as truly participatory practices (Slager 2012; ICPHR, 2020). Moreover, it pays no attention to how people attribute meaning to their lives and what they yearn for.

Metaphors like the ladder not only explain and shape our communication but also shape the way we think and act. Lakoff and Johnson (1980) showed that metaphors structure our most basic understandings of our experience; they are ‘metaphors we live by’. Metaphors can shape our perceptions and actions without our ever noticing them. So if we believe that scholars are right in their critiques and that participation encompasses much more than a hierarchical set of social relations that are devoid of context, we need a lens that prepares us for the right expectations and unanticipated actions. This is timely, since participation is increasingly becoming a formal obligation for project funding (Oudendammer et al., 2019). At the same time, there are growing criticisms about tokenism and participation fatigue in response to unrealistic planning and demands, participation being imposed on people, excessive pressure being put on the same small groups with few resources, and elite participation (Banks et al. 2013; Dedding and Slager 2013; Springett 2017).

Years of experience of participation in research, policy, welfare and health care in the Netherlands have taught us that participation is not solely about decision-making but also shared activity; work needs to be done, by a diverse group of people in a specific context, to seek alternative perspectives and courses of action. This lens of work – (literally) building participation practices together, as depicted in Figure 1 – helps to explain the discursive nature and underlying values of participation. It helps to convey the inconvenient message that, owing to its situatedness, there is no blueprint for participation. People need to start building with the people involved: carefully listening and observing and experiencing what works, for whom and why, and adapting along the way.

Figure 1. Situated work.

Theoretically, we are inspired by the German philosopher Hannah Arendt. In The Human Condition (1958), she describes a Theory of Action, in which she defines the principles of human existence as labour, work and action. Labour is the main activity of life as an ongoing process and focuses on self-preservation, while work is defined as the specific activity of the Homo faber who makes products in order to build the world, and action is defined as the activity in which the unique, personal self is revealed. These activities are not hierarchically ordered; in her view, each activity defines the conditions of human existence. The problem in the modern world, according to Arendt, is that we confuse goals and means and forget to speak about meaning. In addition, a rational, goal-oriented focus of people and organizations does not provide any space for the unexpected and the unanticipated. According to Arendt, action provides space for people to reveal themselves in relations and to create outcomes that are new and the start of a new beginning. It is the space for deliberation that we believe deserves more attention in participatory processes or, as we argue, demands ‘action’ – meaning ‘being able to show yourself’, as a participant and as a researcher or policymaker, and ‘work’ – in the sense of what is necessary to collectively enact positive change. The core idea is that power is created when people gather together and act in concert (Arendt 1958; Berding 2018).

The act of doing

There are no fixed guidelines for building participation practices; it’s not about predefined steps or getting higher on the ladder, but about creativity, flexibility and firmness and about creating space for new knowledge and action. A participatory process should be strongly grounded in specific practices and adjusted so that all can be involved. This ‘work’ is built to last – at least for a while – and to be visible. It provides a political space that allows room for active involvement, one of the key elements of Arendt’s Action Theory. Importantly, these building activities are never perfect; their imperfection reflects what is in practice a messy social process, which often includes so-called misunderstandings and mistakes (Abma, 2019) and unexpected and surprising situations that characterize the human condition. When carefully reflected upon, these ‘mistakes’ can serve as a starting point for a genuine dialogue and shared learning. Or, as Cook (2009) argued, mess is the driving force for revealing tacit or hidden realities that frame actions, thereby opening up to new knowledge and lived realities.

It is seldom easy for people to work together. Participation processes are situational, dynamic and unpredictable; although they often include playful and enjoyable moments, they often involve disturbing routines and practices. Moments of joy might happen when there is a sudden realization about what people have in common, or when there are (un)expected insights and achievements; other such moments might occur when things go wrong but people manage to solve them together; and when people realize that things are about to change. Moments of joy need to be celebrated, but so do disturbances and frictions. These are considered productive tensions, as it is exactly within these tensions that new meanings and new knowledge can grow and more inclusive policies and practices can be developed (Dedding and Slager 2013; Groot, 2020). This can happen if a process is seen not as being bolted on to existing structures – as the image of a ladder suggests – but as carefully designed in collaboration with all stakeholders from the start, fostering shared learning and change. This demands proximity, that is, being there at the point when seemingly small choices have to be made, and extensive work. This work has many facets. It calls for shared learning and, as we all know, learning and, in particular, shared learning demand work from everyone involved. This work includes but is not limited to building, pooling, grounding and navigating emotion and ethics work, depending on the wishes, needs and competences of those involved but also on the topic and specific context. These different types of work are intertwined, and in practice they overlap. What follows is a first tentative outline of what ‘work’ might comprise and how this relates to building participatory practices, which usually starts by developing a safe, meaningful and fertile soil in which to grow.

Building ‘communicative spaces’

The starting point for genuine participation (which significantly influences decision-making) is building a space where people feel comfortable and safe. Those who feel powerless don’t feel listened to, able to speak up, and/or have lost their trust in the government and formal institutes and are therefore less likely to participate in every way, while it is these very groups whose increased participation is required to better respond to people most in need (cf. Isler et al. 2015; Bruce et al. 2016; Lionis et al. 2016). People also need to feel sufficiently comfortable and able to trust each other to engage in meaningful processes of critical dialogue. Habermas (2003) developed the concept of ‘communicative space’. He identified the ideal place for people to come together as a place of mutual recognition that adopts reciprocal perspectives and in which there is a shared willingness to consider one’s own conditions through a stranger’s eyes and to learn from each other (ibid, 291).

In a project with ‘victims of loverboys’ [a contested but often-used Dutch term for human traffickers], girls were sceptical and dismissive - we were the umpteenth/yet another adult in their lives. The first day, we asked hardly any questions, instead we started with creative activities. We decorated a cardboard box to keep their belongings safe, and created new crockery from old. The girls enjoyed the activities and the open, pleasant atmosphere. The next day, some girls started to show interest in us, asking why we came and wished to work with them. They checked and challenged us with jokes, slowly sharing their ideas about their lives and the care they received to begin with, that they didn’t recognize themselves in the term ‘victims of loverboys’ … After three days they prepared a presentation as a starter for a dialogue with the management (Aussems et al. 2020).

It is in acting – in working together – that people get to know each other and start to build trust, learn what people value and why, and what people need in order to show and to develop their competences. In this process, people act and react; these actions define the process of revealing and developing meanings and possible conflicts.

The focus on work immediately shows that different skills and competences should be valued, e.g. reaching and building bridges in the community, overcoming mistrust and feelings of shame or anger, and crossing boundaries between communities and policymakers, in order to bring lived experiences and felt needs to the table. It is also by doing – by working together – that professionals confront their own prejudices and their limited knowledge of what people in different circumstances value, need and are capable of. This implies that participation can’t be designed in advance by one person from behind a desk; it demands critical reflection and adjustment of activities, roles and responsibilities during the process. There should be flexibility to choose how and when to contribute and to understand what counts as positive change along the way.

Building trust and genuine relationships and developing and exchanging ideas demands time, as many scholars have pointed out (Cook 2012; Pain et al., 2015, Abma et al, 2019b). Considerable time needs to be dedicated to getting to know each other, to ‘just talking’, to ensure that people understand each other’s perspectives and needs and to go beyond the dominant conceptualizations of practice. For example, although sending out invitations for a meeting is a common approach, often commissioned by institutions, they seldom work for people for whom the notion of a meeting is an alien concept. They can evoke memories of experiencing a frustrating bureaucracy or feelings of ‘colonization’, or, at a more practical level, cause problems for people who cannot read well, do not know how to get to such a meeting, or simply cannot afford the trip. It is these first moments of interaction that need careful consideration. Small things – for example, an unplanned conversation over coffee or an informal conversation during a walk with someone – sometimes lead to large shifts in understanding and the willingness to connect and to cope with challenges that may arise.

Pooling different sources of knowledge

One of the underlying notions of participation is that reality is not an objective truth to be discovered but ‘includes the way in which the people involved with facts perceive them’ (Freire 1982, 30). The core idea of participation is that knowledge constructed without the active participation of the communities affected can only be partial. Leaving out citizens’ voices could be understood as being what Fricker (2009, 2013) described as ‘epistemic injustice’. Epistemic injustice arises when people (including young people) are seen as less credible than policymakers and professionals, leading to single or one-sided views of reality (Abma, Voskes, and Widdershoven 2017; Miranda-Galarza et al. 2013; Groot, Haveman, and Abma 2020). Scientific knowledge is not by definition more highly valued. On the contrary, the idea is that it can be critically questioned on the basis of people’s practical wisdom and daily lifeworld:

Children with diabetes wished to write a book for their peers about their lives with diabetes. Funding was hard to get. Adults pointed to the pile of books that was already written for children with diabetes. Books that children considered boring, and therefore not suitable to be shared with their friends. Moreover, these books showed a reality that is not theirs: ‘that is not how my life looks like!’, and do not answer for them important questions like: how to deal with overconcerned parents, will it be possible to get pregnant, and what happens to my blood in the laboratory? While parents and medical professionals questioned the competences of children of dealing with their disease, children questioned the competences of adults regarding ‘knowing what it means to be a child with diabetes’. Moreover, they contested the idea of ‘one disease’ that works the same for everybody and person. (Dedding 2009; Dedding et al. 2015)

Acknowledging different ways of knowing, including experiential, practical, intuitive and emotional ways of knowing, is not easy. Doing so questions the role of the ‘outside’ expert and often demands creative ways of engaging. Creativity can help to disrupt routine and overly cognitive thinking and to open a process up to emotions, embodied knowledge and practical logics, and it might fit better with the competences of less verbally able participants. Creative forms like photovoice, theatre and the arts might help participants to see and reflect on their reality and to develop alternative ways of thinking and acting (Mitchell, De Lange, and Moletsane 2017).

Grounding: creating a contextualized understanding

Each participation process needs to be adjusted to and grounded within a specific context; respond to people’s felt needs, and navigated by people in their daily context. This demands acknowledging the relational dynamic between people’s lived experiences and contextual interactions rather than on looking at individual characteristics. Moreover, true problem identification demands a sound understanding of people’s daily reality and the consideration of each other’s socioeconomic, historical and cultural background in order to: 1) create an in-depth understanding of the scope and nature of the problem; 2) understand how people attribute meaning to certain actions, concepts, situations and experiences; and 3) identify the mediating factors that are necessary for building bridges. For example:

We invited elderly people living in a nursing home to become involved in planning the meals. We printed empty menus and asked, ‘What would you like to have on the menu?’. A seemingly easy question, but one they found surprisingly hard to answer. They said that they were happy with the current menu and mentioned, ‘We used to eat together from one pan’, or ‘I have been in a camp [during war] … ’. They had learned not to complain, and did not wish to be known as complainers. After talking about how well the organization and the received care stands out for the residents, and explaining that participation is not the same as complaining, we invited them again to think about what they would like to eat. Pancakes, fried potatoes and croquettes, many answered. Typical Dutch food, which is considered to be unhealthy for frail, elderly people and so the careful cook did not include it on the menu.

For participation to become sustainable, there is a need for structural grounding in specific practices, because it flourishes if it is embedded in the capillaries of an organization. In the case of the elderly residents, the cook followed up on their wishes, and the care staff observed that the pancakes were a great success. The cook started regularly meeting with a group of residents, supported by the management.

This contextual grounding demands time and effort but often sheds new light on issues. For example, by viewing health promotion as a resource originating from people within their socioeconomic contexts rather than from the healthcare system, one might learn what motivates youngsters with a low socioeconomic position to go to McDonald’s every week, other than the food, such as the free WiFi and a spot to have some privacy with friends (Lems et al. 2019, 2020). This contextual knowledge helps to create an in-depth understanding of people’s lives and to develop interventions that meet their needs and circumstances, but only by investing in gaining this understanding. Importantly, this might also be true for the participants in terms of gaining an insight into the working of institutions and, for instance, the motives of policymakers. This could help to overcome mistrust and frustration and could lead to a greater understanding of why things are the way they are.

Navigating power relations

Participation processes question existing power relations, such as those between children and adults, between patients and medical professionals, between citizens and policymakers, and, more generally, between marginalized people and those in positions of power. Critically questioning these historically and socio-culturally rooted power relations demands ongoing sensitive role work, encompasses reasoning and considering the wider political (macro) context, and includes work on identity and responsibility (Abma et al., 2019b, Wallerstein and Duran 2010). ‘Role work’, according to Banks (2016), involves judging what roles to play in relation to particular people in particular circumstances, how and when to shift between roles, when a degree of professional proximity or greater distance is right, and negotiating roles with service users and others.

It is important to recognize that all stakeholders have needs and agendas and to pay attention to power differentials, which are often significant. For example, who has access to resources, scientific knowledge and privileges (e.g. due to class, gender, ethnicity)? Who represents the community? Who owns the data, and who represents the project to the external world? Where do signs of resistance come from? (Groot and Abma 2019). Group dynamics may also reinforce the existing power of individuals in the community (e.g. Elberse, Caron‐Flinterman, and Broerse 2011). For these reasons, it is crucial to consider how relationships unfold within a particular historical and institutional context as well as through the personal connections between partners, and if necessary to actively act upon these in order to question and change existing power relations:

In a project about digital inclusion of citizens in vulnerable circumstance, citizens were interviewed about their felt needs and possible solutions. These stories were fed into a co-creation session with policymakers by the research team, with the help of ‘personas’ (semi-fictional representations). As a consequence, the power of the insiders’ voice was limited; citizens could not show and develop their competences as owners and solvers of the problem. Moreover, the process barely challenged negative stereotypes of people living in poverty as passive and depending on professionals for solutions. Therefore, the researchers felt a moral duty to actively advocate for a follow-up project in which there would be sufficient time for genuine participation; a true dialogue in which citizens can reflect on and challenge excluding policies and practices. (Dedding et al. 2020)

Dealing with emotions

The required closeness and the work on real-life problems inherently demand ‘emotion work’, as participatory processes create uncertainty and disappointment, and sometimes even bereavement (Abma et al., 2019a). They require the management of feelings such as sadness, mistrust, guilt and fear, but also compassion and empathy, and raise questions such as why didn’t they take us seriously before, why haven’t we worked together before, why are people unable or unwilling to act, and why do we empathize with some people and issues and not with others? This emotion work is complex; it happens in the field, in people’s minds and bodies, offering insights that cannot be touched upon by using single data-collection methods, and it is often hard to put into words:

In a participatory study with people who had been unemployed for a long period of time, all of us shared our personal life story. The stories were full of negative experiences, emotions and situations that triggered the others in the group. One person shared that she had abused a child. Another gave details about the abuse of her daughter by her ex-husband. A third participant was heavily triggered by these stories, she was angry that the others did not respect children’s boundaries. This moment is only one of many that called for emotion work on the part of the facilitators. What is your responsibility of care for the storytellers, who shared very sensitive personal stories? But also, how to care for the emotions of the third person and the other group members? And finally, how to care for yourself as a facilitator to not only care for the people in the group but also yourself? (Groot, Haveman, and Abma 2020)

Emotion work is often invisible and not embedded as work in the plan or budget. As Banks (2016) mentioned regarding emotion work, it is focused ‘particularly on emotions linked to respecting, not harming, caring for and about others and being ethically good people – for example, the emotions of compassion, guilt or shame’ (ibid, 8). An important good is the exercise of self-care by the facilitators of participation projects, as participation processes are often unpredictable and disturbances of existing structures and services often bring about (conflicting) emotions.

Fostering ethical foundations

The focus on (ongoing) real-life issues, such as those occur in personal and social relationships, gives rise not only to emotions but also to moral questions about what we are doing and why, and about fairness, responsibility, harming each other and professional accountability. These questions demand what Banks (2016) defined as ‘ethics work’, by which she means ‘the effort people put into seeing ethically salient aspects of situations, developing themselves as good practitioners, working out the right course of action and justifying who they are and what they have done’. Acting ethically is not straightforward; it involves complex processes of negotiation within situations. It is not always clear in these situations what the ‘right’ course of action is; boundaries between ‘professionals’ and ‘citizens’ begin to blur and the topic of the research may be sensitive, as the following example shows:

Ruud has multiple sclerosis and cannot use his hands and lower body. Ruud has been fully engaged in two participatory projects and spent his spare time in them. His relationship with the researcher was intense and experienced as very valuable. It offered him structure, a network, and meaning: his life and knowledge mattered. For the researcher, the relationship had a different purpose. For her it was an insightful collaboration; a working relation, like a relation with colleagues. It was one of the activities a researcher does, and after a few years, she started a new project with new co-researchers. For Ruud this was a painful experience. He initiated ideas for a new project, but since there was no funding this could not be developed to a new fruitful collaboration. (Abma, Groot, Widdershoven, 2019)

Paying attention to the conclusion of a project and what it means for participants is an example of ethical work, but it is not work that is described in project plans or included in the funding. Moreover, without a proper dialogue with Ruud about the ending of the projects, we probably would not have learned what the ending of a project means to him. Until recently, hardly any attention has been paid to the perspectives of co-researchers on ethical issues (ibid, 2020). The example noted above requires reflection on the academic and organizational context and the accompanying rules and routines that may lead to the exclusion of voices and short-term working relations. Does one dare to renegotiate a contract with a commissioning body when more time is needed? Does one have the courage to take a stand in favour of including the users’ voices and needs? Should we build more sustainable relationships? This ethics work could be seen as the starting point and a vital component of true participatory projects, as participation is driven by ethical principles of social justice and knowledge democracy. Moreover, for some scholars, it is an end in itself and seen as the hallmark of participation (International Collaboration for Participatory Health Research (ICPHR) 2020).

Discussion and invitation

As noted in the introduction, we increasingly need to find ways of communicating that move beyond professional and technical language in order to bring science, policy and practice together in a truly collaborative project. We believe a focus on acting and work, instead of the former focus on participation ladders for decision-making, might help to overcome some of the current obstacles to designing genuine collaborative processes.

First of all, it might help to avoid tokenism, e.g. it would be explained to funding agencies that time is needed to build trusting relationships and to understand what is at stake within the specific situation, for whom and why, and that there is a need to create space for the unknown and unexpected. The focal point of work and acting also helps to anticipate the efforts that need to be made by everyone involved; without strong linkages and a firm grounding, it is not possible to build genuine participation practices. Moreover, cognitive knowledge alone is not enough to build strong connections and to bring about change; different sources of knowledge and skills are needed, including emotions, practical wisdom and embodied knowledge, which are often more easily articulated in arts-based methods (Heron and Reason 2008).

It is by acting and working together that people get to know each other and start to build trust, learn what people value and why, and what people need in order to show and to develop their competences; during this process, they are also confronted with their own prejudices. Moreover, as Arendt (1958) argued, it is the activity in which the unique, personal self is revealed. She noted that collective action, speaking, consultation and deliberation seem to have disappeared from public space in modern society. This alternative lens of participation practices, which focuses on working together, reminds organizations that there must be room, literally and figuratively, in which to come together and think about meaning, and how this can differ for individual people. It also suggests that although whatever is created can end, it can continue in another form, as the examples above illustrate. The goal is therefore not solely about the decisions taken but also involves the joint learning process of giving meaning and the (positive) social change that is created in action. According to Arendt, it is always uncertain how that action will turn out – it cannot be predicted and therefore it takes courage to continue. The specifically human cannot be made; it is quite fragile and frangible, as our daily coexistence shows time and again. Working with these fragile and frangible situations is demanding but is seldom acknowledged as work, which we tend to associate with the production by the Homo faber (Arendt 1958). We hope to have shown that this limited conceptualization of work is not productive in the field of participation.

If we understand this alternative conceptualization of participation as acting and work, we get closer to the concept of co-creation that is used in the field of design. This is often defined as the collaborative development of new value (concepts, solutions, products and services) with experts and/or stakeholders (such as customers, suppliers etc.) (Lee et al. 2018). While we share the focus on shared learning by doing and working with creative methods, we see some important differences, in particular the normative intentions of participation, such as 1) a commitment to social inclusion and epistemic justice; 2) the focus on real-life issues and the heightening of mutual understanding among stakeholders; 3) the critical questioning of existing power differences; 4) valuing the learning process as much as the outcomes, or even more; and 5) being responsive to emotions and messiness rather than to a smooth, guided process (cf. Abma, et al., 2019; Wright and Kongrats 2019). We envisage participation practices in which we carefully develop the prerequisites for ‘acting in concert’ and in which people with different backgrounds respectfully work together to address real-life issues. Regarding the focus on acting, we believe that citizens, patients and, for example, children already participate in society as knowledgeable social actors but that we have not (dared to) listen to them and have not observed them very well (Dedding, 2015). Moreover, with a focus on lived experience as being organized from ‘below’ by the experiencing subjects themselves, we could show respect to existing political spaces, as Dowdy (2007) showed regarding the hip-hop scene.

Second, all too often we tend to rely on the idea that people can and should voice their needs verbally in a formal meeting setting. However, it is through action and encountering barriers to change in real-life settings that people shape their knowledge of how the world works, not only cognitively but also emotionally. By touching on new or old experiences, emotions and empathy can work as catalysts for change and therefore should be valued and reflected upon rather than being seen as too personal or difficult to handle (cf. Smeenk 2019). This applies to citizens, but of course also to policymakers and researchers. Participatory arts-based methods can accommodate more than traditional methods regarding these emotions. We therefore hope that the scientific community and policymakers will gradually open up to more creative, arts-based dialogues and to a new, more inclusive language that includes the use of images.

Images slowly feed into scientific cultures – like metaphors, they can convey, evoke and expand our thoughts and feelings about the subject matter – adding a richness to our understanding that is different from the written word. Images inform in the sense of providing information, but more significantly, images give form – temporal and spatial orientation, coherence, meaning and intentions – to a process (Broek, van den, et al., 2015). We believe – as was the case for the participation ladder – that an image that reflects the inherent complexity of participatory processes could help the dialogue between scholars, policymakers and community partners about the underlying values of participation, what to expect and particularly about the amount of effort that is needed to facilitate meaningful participation, shared learning and social change. Moreover, visualizations might be the only common language to which all participants can relate, in both a technical and a non-technical fashion (Marzouki et al. 2017). We hope that scholars will take up this challenge to explore new practices and to build them playfully, creatively and critically, including looking for alternative images to represent scientific concepts like participation, as we did in the Netherlands.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).