Edinburgh Napier University

  Here’s something that’s been discredited, but let’s take it one step further. In qualitative research, we know it’s hokum that an all-knowing researcher “collects” data —springing already formed— from participants. Data “collection”, we know, is all about construction.

But what about the other side of the table? What about the construction going on for the researcher? In interviews, I find myself (in both senses of the phrase) co-constructing more than just data: I experiment with theorising. I perform for participants, whether consciously or not. Sometimes, I’ll tell my own stories, just to hear their thoughts. And sometimes —the ‘standard’ way, but is it the most ethical?— I’ll just shut up and give them plenty of rope.

Here’s an example, from my research in Guatemala among “westerners” learning Spanish. In it, I’m talking to a participant, “Kyle”, a PhD candidate in Latin American history:
Kyle: I love street food, so I tried…I think they're called chinches. I don't know. They're kind of like flattened pupusas that are grilled and then inside there’s, like, cheese.
Phiona: Are they good? They sound like gringas [similar to tacos].
Kyle: They're pretty good. They're kind of like gringas. That's what I thought when I first saw them actually, but there is more dough. They're bigger and then they put like a salad and some spicy sauce on top.
Phiona: Sounds good.
Kyle: It's pretty good, yeah.

On the surface, we’re discussing food. But mainly, Kyle and I are establishing ourselves as “Old Latin America hands”. We construct a shared ‘expert’ identity: we both have Spanish language skills and iron stomachs. Reading between the lines, there’s lots, like this, in interview transcripts that goes well beyond the “data”. I therefore ask: how do we deal with that messiness?