Let’s get one thing out of the way: within the conversations around decolonisation in our sector, people talk about ‘epistemic justice’ a lot. ‘Epistemology’ is simply an unnecessarily complex word meaning knowledge – so we’re talking about knowledge justice, location, and holders. That’s one of the key conversations to unpack because what constitutes knowledge relates directly to what we consider ‘data’ and the role of expertise in these routes to decolonise.

RADIQUAL, as my methodology, looks at unravelling the power of these spaces of knowledge and better redistributing it, acknowledging the diverse ways and types of knowing.

The different spaces where knowledge is held, or epistemic locations, help us to understand how they relate to others, whose knowledge is valued over another’s, and why.

Epistemic location refers to the idea that all knowledge is situated within specific social, cultural, and historical contexts and that these contexts shape our perspectives. That’s true enough: think about how easy it is to believe what you read in a textbook versus TikTok. However, recognising that these locations are not universal and that they are guided by ‘‘Western’’ values of knowledge shows us a pathway to decolonise these spaces themselves.

RADIQUAL challenges the universality and dominance of Eurocentric knowledge systems, which often present themselves as universal truths. At the same time, other ways of knowing are marginalised, exoticised, or dismissed as ‘local’ or ‘indigenous’ – the implicit meaning being this makes them invalid and not as rigorous.

This epistemic hierarchy has deep roots in colonialism, where European knowledge was positioned as superior and used to justify the colonisation and exploitation of other societies.

So, as we move to decolonisation, RADIQUAL encourages us to think about our epistemic locations: where we are physically located, whose sources of data we automatically assume are worthy, and why. Whose are less so, and why? It also calls us to balance that out – to treat oral histories, art, and qualitative data as equally rigorously as statistics, mathematical measurements of achievements, and the knowledge in textbooks.

We need to rethink, as researchers, how our biases and assumptions around this hierarchy affect the ways we relate to other ways of knowing. When you construct a methodology, consider where knowledge that comes out of a story of change is situated in your project. Is it tacked on to a report as a case study with photos of your communities, or has it formed the basis of your codebook? Why, and why not?

This reflection should be done at a personal and professional level, and we need to balance out different ways of knowing. Doing so can open up our minds and work to new ideas and perspectives and expand our definition of what constitutes data.

Are we approaching problems from a perspective that assumes ‘‘Western’’ models and frameworks are inherently superior? Are we privileging certain types of knowledge over others, perhaps unintentionally reinforcing colonial power dynamics? What is our individual and collective role in maintaining that hierarchy, and where can each research project you belong to shift that?

Applying a decolonial approach involves this foundational shift. RADIQUAL encourages us to challenge these assumptions and embrace a more pluralistic view of knowledge.

It also calls for us to bring humility, self-awareness, and a willingness to learn – and unlearn. RADIQUAL means recognising that our own perspectives are limited and that we can benefit from engaging with diverse viewpoints. This is particularly important in any work that involves partnerships, where power dynamics – implicit and explicit – can easily lead to the marginalisation of certain voices. It’s ultimately about fostering a mindset of reflexivity and openness.