Research methods: The ethnographic interview (course content)
What is ethnography?
éthnos (Greek): folk/the people + grapho (Greek): to write. Ethnography means, literally, writing about the people.
Of course, I ignore the many intricacies of the term with such an intro. In 2019, ethnography is a methodology (think: practice that involves combining multiple research methods in order to best answer a question or questions), and it is the primary practice of social scientists who are interested in better understanding humans in the present.
By far the most popular methods in ethnographic research are participant observation (see here) and unstructured interviewing (see below).
Nevertheless, technology shifts mean that ethnographers are continually expanding how they search for data, utilizing new audio-visual and other, still often considered “experimental” methods as these get designed/invented. Simultaneously, shifts in disciplinary thinking today motivate the development of, for example, ever more child-friendly methods. This trend follows the (relatively recent, though with many exceptions) identification of children as agents―as individuals who have their own meaningful understandings and values and practices and things to say.
Drawing, sculpting, building things out of legos (yes, really), group work and games, scripting and the enacting of skits, mapping, participatory video and film projects, participatory audio recording, conversation analysis (using high quality audio equipment that is ever more affordable and portable), and many, many other methods are now employed by ethnographers from and working around the globe in their attempts to understand human beings in all of their complexities. And so, you see:
Ethnography is not only “writing about the people,” but it is all of the steps one takes, from asking questions of humanity and human social relations to observing, interacting with, interviewing, and in other ways documenting humans as they live their daily lives. It is the jotting of notes on everything one notices, the expanding of these notes each night into thicker descriptions and accounts, and it even includes the analyzing and writing up of one’s findings.
In short: ethnography is a multi-method, start-to-finish, human-conducted examination of what humans do and say and think and believe, what they mean by what they do and say and think and believe, and then, why any of this might matter. In the words of anthropologist Sherry Ortner, ethnography “has always meant the attempt to understand another life world using the self — as much of it as possible — as the instrument of knowing” (2006, in McGranahan 2012).
If you are growing up to do ethnography and want to see a much more precise unpacking of the word, here is what one Savage Minds (a popular anthro blog) writer had to say in 2012. Or if, instead, you want the video game designer explanation of ethnographic research, the how and why even non-scientists use ethnographic methods today, click here for a three minute video.
What is an ethnographic interview?
“Oftentimes we can’t do as much observation as we would like, so we have to turn to unstructured interviews,” (1:49) says the narrator in the YouTube clip linked just above. But in fact, we do not interview because we run out of time to observe. (Clarification: I really do like the rest of that video.)
Instead: IF anthropology is the study of what we (humans) do and say and think and mean, and IF we cannot read minds… THEN the most ethically correct (and also effective, efficient, etc.) way to get at the thoughts and beliefs and understandings of other human beings is by asking them, in addition to observing them, thereby allowing real human beings to have real voices and a real say in what and why and how they do and say and think as they do. Let me demonstrate:
“Man, art students are a unique bunch,” I think to myself. And I’ve been working at US schools of art and design since 2011, so I’ve done a solid amount of participant observing among these students on campuses. I can even arrive at conclusions based on my observing:
“It seems to me that their decisions to attend art school are decisions to pursue their passions, despite the economic risks in art today. I mean, they talk about the importance of doing what you love and stuff all the time.”
I continue thinking: “And yet… it seems to me that they share a strong sense of uncertainty (uncertainty of their own future economic stability, in particular), and this uncertainty, it seems to me, mitigates (or even eradicates) their excitement for their work and their confidence in themselves. Not always. But often. And they seem particularly pessimistic when discussing society and culture in their liberal arts classes.”
All of this leaves me considering: “Is there a paradox here? Going to college to study art and circulating DWYL mantras while exuding pessismism and doubt?” I mean, “Why go to art school if there is no future in art?” Or: “Is their pessimism learned at art school? Is it just a front, used by a secretly hopeful bunch of individuals? Is hope (or aspiration) seen as egoism in art school?” Etc. etc.
Okay, maybe I am being obvious and unprofound. Or: maybe my thinking is wrong-headed. Regardless, I have just described a series of thoughts I induced based solely on my in-class experiences with students and conversations with colleagues on art school campuses.
Now: you’re an art student. Do you feel voiceless and/or annoyed? Like, “Why is she inducing instead of asking me? Just because she hangs out on our campuses…” This is what being observed without being asked feels like.
Also, don’t I seem stuck in my questioning and like I might advance much faster to some answers if I sit down and talk to you, several of you, already?
De hecho, I must, necessarily, talk to you (the art students, at least some of you) in contexts and spaces which allow YOU to tell me how YOU think about and understand yourselves, your futures, and more, if I really want to trust my findings related to YOU. Depending on what YOU tell ME, I can then strengthen or refute my initial hypothesizing and then add further lines of questioning to my research. See how that works?
Let’s go back to science is a practice
Ask, investigate, analyze, find … do it all over again … remember that loop?
In all that one asks, as a scientist, one aspires to collect multiple lines of evidence (shout out to Dr. Tim Earle of Northwestern University who said this in every archy class I ever had with him). Observation, obviously, provides various lines of evidence. But so, too, does the ethnographic interview. The interview allows you to check your observations and interpretations with the very individuals you are observing.
Okay, okay, so what does one ask?
The 5 W’s, sure, just as the video gamer/narrator in the video linked above says, but famous Americanist sociologist Howard Becker said, “scratch the ‘why’ questions and focus on the ‘how’ questions” (my own paraphrase). Let me show you why he said this:
Pretend I ask you, “Why do you go to College?”
Think about that.
Do you feel like I just put you on the defensive? Maybe? Like I just asked you to explain your decisions to me, as if I (who does she think she is?!) deserve an explanation from you, and also, maybe, am I coming off as a self-important asshole-interlocutor (is she implying college is stupid in that question?).
Does it seem as if I might be wasting your time when you have little to no time to give (because duh, everybody knows it’s college or bust), and so now you have no intention of providing me with lengthy or “thick” or even sincere answers? Perhaps you are more forgiving than this, but others will not be.
Next: what if I had asked, instead, “Can you tell me about how you got to MCAD?”
Reread the why question. Now the how. And now the why again.
Can you see how, in this latter case, I am a different person? A different (more likable, more relatable, perhaps) kind of interviewer? Assuming I chose the right tone, I am asking you for information in a way that:
a) does not put you on the defensive, and
b) makes me appear as if I respect you and your time and sincerely value your answers and want to know more about you and your lived experiences and your thoughts, etc, etc.
Further, by asking how, I am giving you a chance to give me especially concrete feedback. I mean, that “Why college?” question: “To get to the other side,” many are likely to say. Versus: “How did you get to MCAD?” Here each of my interlocutors is likely to have their/her/his own story to tell.
All of THIS is why Becker said drop the “why?” questions; rewrite them as “how?” questions.
Here’s another example, directly related to our exercise this week: “Why do artists use the word ritual?”
How would you and those around you respond?
What if you were asked, instead: “How is ‘ritual’ used in the arts world, and/or by artists, today? Can you think of any examples?”
Which question invites you in? Which encourages you to open up, and to speak most concretely (provided you have something to say), borrowing from your real experiences and understandings? Which question will get me (the interviewer) the better, more concrete answers? The latter question does these.
Finally, there is something else going on within how-and-not-why questions that I want to discuss with you here, and this relates to:
Building rapport while asking questions
In short, you want your interlocutors to like you.
Sure, go to your friends. This is one way to get good, thoughtful answers (and it’s particularly okay when we are trying on a method for the first time, as we are this week). Your friends trust and like you, and they are likely to assume that if you are asking them questions, your motives for doing so are worthy rather than egoistic and a waste of their time. Further, they are likely to trust that whatever you do with their answers will reflect the respect you hold for them.
However, you/I/we already know that in good science we can’t just interview our friends. I mean, yes, totally, I try out my interview questions on my friends: to make sure the questions are clear; to see what kinds of answers I get, and to help me predict what kinds of answers I might get in the field later… I had four Mexico City friends take the introductory survey I designed for you all at W1, for example, two months before you saw that survey. (This doesn’t mean that survey was perfect by the time you took it, but it did get tighter.) My point is, this is pre-research in the real world, the vetting of your method, and not its application “in the field.”
In the end, the kinds of data that reflect communities or societies most accurately need to be representative of the individuals within those communities or societies. This is why we do things like randomize our sample sets, use snowball sampling when there is not a reliable alternative, etc.
And building rapport from within the interview, my theme here, becomes especially important within those contexts in which we are speaking with strangers or near-strangers. Thus (even if you are choosing to interview your friends for class this week), let’s talk about how one does this.
On an individual by individual basis, think about what you know about your interlocutor, and what you believe will make that person most comfortable. What do you need in order to achieve this level of comfort for that individual?
1. Consider the time and place of your interview.
2. Think about your own presentation of self: your dress, posture, tone and voice (including your emotive performances as well as your word choices), non-verbal gestures, and more. Think about the *vibes* you want to send and how you will achieve this.
In my fieldwork in southern Oaxaca (2007–2011), for example, I adopted a formal discourse and highly structured line of questioning when speaking with politicians and investors who made it clear (via their dress, speech, spending habits, and more) that they privileged efficiency and professionalism. I ran these interviews in their office spaces, brought them coffee (bourgie signifier reaffirming the link between one’s lack of sleep and one’s importance to the world), and I smiled and told them not to worry, no hurry, each time we were interrupted by a coworker or secretary. I made clear that my interest in their lives was a professional, scientistic interest.
With poor, single mothers who lived in rural regions and worked in the informal economy, in contrast, I tried as hard as I could, to come off as empathic, excited to be in conversation, personally interested/invested, and casual/relaxed: as opposed to overly rigid or academic. (To be clear, these performances of mine were always sincere.) I ran these interviews in women’s homes, or in public plazas, and often offered to (and later did, in several cases) babysit their children (an attempt at reciprocity that was more meaningful than gifting coffee to these women). Just like in my more formal interviews, I told the women not to worry whenever we were interrupted — by clients/customers or neighbors or kin and fictive kin in these cases.
Even when “interviewing” via email, building rapport remains key. Before you begin, obviously, you must decide who is and isn’t comfortable using email as a medium of communication. Or who checks email rarely and thus will miss your request. Who hates typing? Who doesn’t read? If you only use emailed interviews, whose voices are you excluding from your study?
Once you’ve decided to use email, you must show your emailed interviewee you care about his/her/their replies. You can do this by choosing a tone that is friendly/warm. Also by adapting your style to your interlocutor, as I just modeled above.
Are you interviewing the President of France? Perform smart and formal with a *cool* edge. President Emmanuel Macron is 39yo, studied philosophy in college, and is waaaay cool (also married his high school teacher, so probably don’t bring that up).
Are you interviewing D. Trump? Put on your best “just-one-of-the-dudes-and-if-you’re-not-with-me-you’re-against-me” face. Bring cherry-vanilla ice cream or See’s candies. Say something positive about Citizen Kane. Not kidding.
My point: you must know, be able to empathize with, and probably even respect (you figure out how / for what reasons) your audience if you want them to take you and your interview, email-based or not, seriously.
En fin
To every ethnographic interview, you arrive with a plan, a list of questions, sure, but you adapt that plan as the interview evolves. Your interlocutors’ positions, practices, and expectations shape your rapport building strategies. So, too, do the contexts in which you are interviewing. Are children present? Snoopy neighbors? A secretary or boss? You might modify your tone and voice within an interview. And you will continually accommodate to make more comfortable your interviewees.
In the end, the strongest ethnographic interviews are those that are appropriate and inviting. They are dynamic, changing in an instant as the context in which you interview changes, rather than rigid and unwavering. “Semi-structured” we call them. Or we call them “informal.”
Are they messy (and sometimes even stressful)? Absolutely. But this is the most ethically correct and effective way to run an interview at present.
Now: good luck to each of you in your interviews this week. I am excited, already, to learn what you find.
