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The aim of this chapter is to question the default to enforced anonymity in qualitative research. Ogden (2008c, p. 693) notes that ‘Many research participants do not wish to be anonymous. They participate in research because they anticipate a benefit, such as the hope that their contributions are valuable enough to make a difference and that they will be recognized for it.’ So why are participants typically rendered anonymous when qualitative research is published in research outputs such as theses, articles, and books? And what is the particular relevance of naming participants in research involving indigenous participants in colonised settings? We explore these questions by drawing on two example studies with indigenous participants in Aotearoa/New Zealand that illustrate some of the possibilities and some of the challenges of naming participants in comparison to enforcing anonymity. In one of these studies, all pre-teen participants chose to be named (Pidduck, 2016); in the other study, we did not offer participants with a history of criminal offending the option of being named (Ashdown, 2016). This chapter focuses on the relevance of autonomy and self-determination to highlight how enabling indigenous peoples to have control over research in which they are involved is important for indigenous development. At the end of the chapter we present a model of degrees of anonymity that we developed based on our research and on the literature. This model clarifies the nature of anonymity and offers a framework for researchers who are considering naming participants in research outputs.

Anonymity as a Research Norm

Providing research participants with anonymity has become a norm in social science research because of the assumption that being named may lead to harm (Nespor, 2000; Scarth, 2016; Walford, 2005; van den Hoonaard, 2003). In qualitative methodologies, anonymity is so normalised that ‘the practice of giving a false name to a research site and to the people within it has become almost unquestioned’ (Walford, 2005, p. 85). Anonymity involves removing all potential identifying details with the aim of ensuring that quotes are not traceable to individual participants. It is questionable whether anonymity will guarantee that participants in qualitative research are untraceable (Guenther, 2009; Nespor, 2000; Scarth, 2016; Tilley & Woodthorpe, 2011; van den Hoonaard, 2003; Walford, 2005). Confidentiality certainly cannot be offered in qualitative research if confidentiality means that all comments are made in complete confidence. In this chapter we question the norm of ‘enforced’ participant anonymity (Giordano, O’Reilly, Taylor, & Dogra, 2007, p. 270).

We take up Ogden’s (2008a) argument that researchers ‘sometimes forget that participants might not share the same privacy concerns and would like to be acknowledged for their contributions’ (p. 17). We argue that the question of naming or anonymising participants is particularly pertinent in research with indigenous peoples because of the problematic history of research speaking about the indigenous other (Smith, 2012). In developing this argument we draw on scholarship about indigenous research methods, worldviews, self-determination, and ethics (Hudson & Russell, 2009; Hudson, Milne, Reynolds, Russell, & Smith, 2010; Delany, Ratima, & Morgaine, 2015; Kovach, 2010; Smith, 2012). With some notable exceptions there has been surprisingly little academic work that substantively discusses or challenges the norm of participant anonymity (Guenther, 2009; Nespor, 2000; Scarth, 2016; Tilley & Woodthorpe, 2011; Walford, 2005). This chapter outlines our journey into the issues around enforcing anonymity or offering indigenous participants the opportunity of being named. The start of our journey was a fortuitously timed exposure to two instances of research by Māori researchers naming Māori participants. In the first instance, some of us attended a talk describing research with children and whānau (extended families Footnote 1) from a Māori immersion early childhood education centre called Te Kōpae Piripono (Tamati, Hond-Flavell, Korewha, & the whānau of Te Kōpae Piripono, 2008). This centre delivers its programme in full Māori language immersion (i.e., 100% Māori language use) and is akaupapa Māori initiative in that it operates from within a Māori worldview and actively expresses this worldview (Tamati et al., 2008). Participants appeared in videos shown during the talk and were named in the report by Tamati et al. (2008). In the second instance, we became aware of research into alcohol consumption by O’Carroll (2013) in which Māori participants were allowed to be named. Despite these two examples, there is a lack of discussion and guidance on how to work through the issue of naming participants in indigenous research. Our aim is to provide a detailed consideration of what eventuated in our two studies and a guide for researchers who are considering offering indigenous participants the opportunity of being named.

The two postgraduate student researchers who led the two studies described in this chapter (Jacob and Paris) are Māori and are actively involved in their communities . One of their supervisors (Tia) is Māori and provided cultural research supervision on both projects. The other authors do not have Māori whakapapa (ancestry) but regularly support Māori students and service users. Smith (2012) advocates for non-indigenous researchers acting as mentors of early career indigenous researchers when needed. This mentorship is not without challenges in the managing of one’s identity and privilege as non-indigenous supervisors of indigenous research. For example, non-indigenous researchers cannot provide cultural advice from an insider perspective and may have difficulty in comprehending the indigenous worldviews that are likely to feature in indigenous research. Smith (2012) proposes an ongoing need for decolonising methodologies to counter the perpetuation of colonialism through research because otherwise ‘the cycle of colonialism is just that, a cycle with no end point, no emancipation’ (pp. 203–204). Smith (2012) outlines a range of indigenous methodologies and methods that have a common goal of self-determination. Kovach (2010) argues that indigenous methodologies stem from tribal knowledge and are distinct from Western methodologies although they still share similar attributes with Western qualitative research approaches. Hudson and Russell (2009) note that ‘The main concerns for many indigenous peoples in research revolve around respect for their indigenous rights, control over research processes and reciprocity within research relationships to ensure that equitable benefits are realised within indigenous groups’ (p. 61). Some indigenous researchers refer to their approach as indigenism and indigenist, modelled on the terminology and critical underpinnings of feminism and feminist approaches to research (Smith, 2012). Kaupapa Māori Research (KMR) can be considered an indigenist approach to research that grew out of the work of many Māori researchers (Hudson et al., 2010; Smith, 2012). Kaupapa Māori refers to ways of working that embody a Māori worldview. There is no single version of KMR nor guidelines that specify an ordered series of steps, but KMR is guided by a range of principles that are in close alignment with principles of critical research, particularly emancipatory social justice research and participatory community action research. One core principle of KMR is tino rangatiratanga (Smith, 2012) which translates to absolute sovereignty, chieftainship, authority, and self-determination (Delaney et al., 2015; Orange, 2011). Tino rangatiratanga is an historically and politically loaded term because of its central role in Te Tiriti o Waitangi (The Treaty of Waitangi), which promised tino rangatiratanga over resources to Māori (Orange, 2011). This treaty between Māori and the British Crown is the founding document of the nation of New Zealand (Orange, 2011). Treaty settlement claims are ongoing for some iwi (tribes) because terms of the Treaty were not adhered to by the Crown, resulting in monumental disadvantage for Māori in terms of loss of autonomy , culture, land, and lives (Smith, 2012). Mātauranga Māori (Māori knowledge) continues to be undervalued or defined in non-Māori terms (Smith, 2012). Moreover, Māori who have participated in research often feel used: this is in part because negative depictions of Māori predominate even when the aim is to reveal and reduce disparities (Smith, 2012). KMR can be seen as a response to these concerns and was developed in order to ‘claim research as a space within which Māori can also operate’ (Smith, 2012, p. 202). Put more simply, KMR is research ‘for, by and with Māori’ (Smith, 2012, p. 185).

The two studies presented in this chapter both applied principles of KMR. The first study was led by Paris for her master’s degree in psychology . Paris was supervised by Gareth and Elizabeth, and received cultural research supervision from Tia. Paris conducted her study in Ōtaki, where she grew up. Her whānau continue to live there, which provided an important connection to the community . Paris used a photo-elicitation interview method to explore how tamariki Māori (Māori children) living in Ōtaki understood the concept of hauora (health and well-being). The eight tamariki who participated acted as co-researchers by taking photographs for a week and seeking signed informed consent from other people who appeared in any of their photographs. The tamariki were offered the opportunity of being named in outputs, particularly Paris’ master’s thesis (Pidduck, 2016), and all tamariki agreed to being named.

The second study was led by Jacob, also for his master’s degree in psychology . And, like Paris, he was supervised by Gareth and received cultural research advice from Tia. In addition, Jacob received workplace supervision as well as research advice from Claire and Brian. Claire is the programme director of Te Whare Moana (Moana House), a community -based residential therapeutic community for men with a history of criminal offending. The majority of residents identify as Māori , and Moana House has a kaupapa Māori foundation. Brian is a registered clinical psychologist and provides supervision to staff of Moana House. Jacob’s experience of working at Moana House led him to develop his study of exploring the experiences and aspirations of residents by using individual interviews. In the process, participants of Jacob’s study were not offered the opportunity of being named. On the other hand, permission to name Moana House was sought as part of the ongoing collaboration between Jacob, Claire, Brian, Tia, and Gareth. This permission was not mandated in the ethics approval , but other aspects of the two studies relating to anonymising or naming individual participants were shaped by local ethics review and ethical principles

Ethical Principles and Naming of Participants

Ogden (2008a) emphasises the role of ethics codes in maintaining the norm of participant anonymity : ‘A consequence of such codes is that researchers often assume anonymity must always be protected’ (p. 17). Many writers have concluded that even if the names of participants and study sites such as schools, organisations, or towns are removed in an attempt to ensure anonymity, sites and participants might be identifiable, and therefore, confidentiality cannot be guaranteed (Nespor, 2000; Tilley & Woodthorpe, 2011; Walford, 2005). People from the site of a study are likely to be able to recognise participants unless so little material is quoted that even the participants would be unable to identify their own data in a research output, which can result in decontextualised findings that make a questionable contribution to knowledge (Walford, 2005). Non-maleficence is the ethical principle that research should do no harm , or, more precisely, that researchers have ‘a duty to avoid, prevent, or limit harm to others ’ (Ogden, 2008b, p. 379). It is possible, however, for participants to experience harm if their contribution to research is not recognised when they desire this. Beneficence is the ethical principle that research should do good. Smith (2012) highlights how KMR should aim to benefit Māori in being for and by Māori and not just about or with Māori. Beneficence does not mean that personal benefit can be promised to individual participants. Moreover, conceptualising benefit solely at the individual level contradicts Māori philosophies of the collective self, organised through iwi, hapū (subtribes), whānau, and other Māori groups. In indigenist research, self-determination acts as a guiding objective with the proviso that benefit cannot always be expected to be ‘immediate or direct’ from one piece of research (Smith, 2012, p. 193). But at the same time, Smith (2012) emphasises that it is important to ask of each piece of research: ‘What knowledge will the community gain from this study? […] To whom is the researcher accountable ?’ (pp. 175–176). Naming participants can be seen as one component of researchers’ accountability along with a wider accountability to communities.

Within many current systems of ethical approval , researchers are expected to obtain signed informed consent from all cognitively competent adult participants before they become involved in research. Local ethics committees often provide templates for information sheets and consent forms, and where these templates enforce anonymising of participants, it is hard for researchers to challenge this. The template information sheet and consent form in the University of Otago’s human research ethics application form allows researchers to develop a way of offering participants the option of being named in research outputs. In the guidance for the information sheet, the following is noted:

Some research projects may offer a choice to participants regarding their anonymity . If so the Information Sheet and Consent Form should reflect this with the Information Sheet including a statement such as: On the Consent Form you will be given options regarding your anonymity. Please be aware that should you wish we will make every attempt to preserve your anonymity. However, with your consent , there are some cases where it would be preferable to attribute contributions made to individual participants. It is absolutely up to you which of these options you prefer. (University of Otago, n.d., p. 11)

Similarly, the template for the consent form states: ‘[If participants will be given a choice to remain anonymous or be identified , use the following]: I, as the participant: a) agree to being named in the research, OR; b) would rather remain anonymous’ (University of Otago, n.d., p. 11). These example templates may be useful to researchers whose local ethics committees do not provide such options in templates or guidance; they enabled us to develop a process of offering participants the option of being named in one of the two studies that we describe in more detail in the following section.

Reflections on Naming Participants from the Two Core Studies

Paris’ Study (in Paris’ Voice)

Four ethical processes were considered prior to recruitment for my study with tamariki. Throughout each of these interactions, the intention of offering participants the option of being named was raised. Firstly, the Ngāi Tahu Research Consultation Committee was consulted as required by the Memorandum of Understanding between the University of Otago and the localiwi, Ngāi Tahu.Footnote 2 Secondly, a kuia (female elder) from Ōtaki was consulted about the proposed research. Thirdly, ethical approval was sought and gained from the University of Otago Human Ethics Committee (reference 13/273). And lastly, principals of local schools were consulted about supporting the recruitment process.

During the recruitment phase I met with each tamaiti (child) and their whānau. These hui (meetings) took place at either their whare (house) or one of the schools. As part of the consent process, tamariki were given the option to be named in the research. Whānau were reassured that this decision would be re-considered throughout the research process and prior to the submission of the thesis. All eight tamariki and their whānau indicated that they would like to be named and signed forms to record this initial decision.

In the next phase of the study, the interview transcripts were sent via email to whānau before a group hui with the tamariki and their whānau. Five of the eight tamariki were present at the hui. The remaining three tamariki (and whānau) were contacted at a later date. The intention of this hui was to allow tamariki to comment on the transcript of their interview (e.g., whether the information included was correct and whether or not they wanted changes to be made). I provided a summary of initial findings to the tamariki. This summary included themes and photographs that had been identified in their interview. The tamariki agreed with the summary. Once my thesis was in its final draft I contacted the tamariki and their whānau again. With seven of the eight tamariki, I was able to have face-to-face contact, and I contacted the eighth participant by telephone. Tamariki and whānau were asked to check that the information included in the participants’ section was correct and were shown the quotes and photographs they had contributed. They were then asked if they would still like to be named in the thesis. All eight tamariki again agreed to being named, and they and a parent/caregiver signed another form recording this decision.

It was important to highlight to the tamariki and their whānau that once they had agreed to be named and the thesis was printed, this would be irreversible. Understandably, some of the tamariki were whakamā (embarrassed, shy) about having quotes and photographs included in the thesis. Parents/caregivers were often proactive in highlighting that this was a positive aspect and often noted that the tamariki would be helping me complete my university studies. However, they did not pressure the tamariki to be named. The eight tamariki all agreed to be named in the final thesis, and they and their whānau were happy (and proud) to share their narratives.

Jacob’s Study (in Jacob’s Voice)

Participants in my research were residents of Moana House recruited through a series of hui. These hui informed residents and staff of the purposes of the research and of what would be required of each participant; it was made clear that they understood that the research project was distinct from my role as a staff member of Moana House. Names were drawn from a hat in the presence of all residents and staff in a way that avoided any potential impression of favouritism. All participants were then asked to speak to their key worker about their participation in the project before signing the consent form. Residents at Moana House work alongside a key worker who oversees the resident and collaborates with him to develop an appropriate recovery plan. Each participant, the key worker, and the researcher went through the information sheet together so that any questions could be answered. The resident and the key worker were both required to agree to the resident participating in the project. Prior to each interview, the resident was asked to call a house meeting within the programme’s schedule in order to be transparent about when and where each interview was being held. This protocol was approved by the University of Otago Human Ethics Committee (reference 14/019).

The interviews commenced with my introducing myself with my pepeha (tribal saying) in Te Reo (the Māori language) then inviting the participant to do the same. All residents of Moana House regardless of ancestry are schooled in their pepeha but were encouraged to introduce themselves in whatever way they pleased. I asked participants a series of open-ended questions for the semi-structured interview. None of the participants raised any concerns about their interview experience. Each participant was also given the option of calling another house meeting to describe his interview experience to other residents for the sake of transparency . Once the transcripts were analysed and the themes identified , participants were given a summary of the research results. All participants agreed that the summary accurately captured the experiences that they aimed to communicate.

There were several issues around anonymity that arose in this study and reinforced the decision not to offer participants the opportunity of being named in research outputs. During a hui about the research, one of the residents asked if the information from the interviews would be used as a part of his rehabilitation programme. He was worried that if he disclosed information about rule breaking, this information could result in some form of punishment or his being removed from the programme and recalled to prison. Following their interview, participants were given the option of attending a debriefing session with their key worker. During this session, the resident was invited to discuss his interview experience and any concerns that may have arisen, which then were addressed in a way that reinforced the clear distinction between the research and the delivery of the programme.

One of the main reasons participants were not offered the opportunity of being named was to reduce potential harm to others . If the participants were to be named in the research, those who have experienced harm in the past due to the actions of any one participant may be at risk of further emotional damage if they became aware of the research. Allowing the participant to share his story could be perceived as glorifying anti-social aspects of the past. Additionally, hearing or seeing a participant’s name could trigger harmful memories and have an adverse emotional impact on an individual who may have been harmed by the participant in the past.

Another potential consequence of naming participants is retaliation from gangs for breaking the ‘code of silence.’ Participants who have been in gangs or who have chosen to discuss gang-related issues could be at an increased risk of harm . Therefore, maintaining participant confidentiality is crucial to ensuring the safety of participants. Naming participants could also have negative consequences for their ability to gain employment or enrol in courses in the future. There were a number of participants in my study who had been either previously or currently enrolled in courses, while other participants expressed interest in enrolling in courses in the future. Being identified as an individual with a history of incarceration could have negative implications for participants’ ability to participate in education or employment without being judged or asked inappropriate questions about their offence.

Recommendations for Researchers Considering Offering Participants the Opportunity to Be Named

The two studies presented in this chapter raise a range of important considerations about offering participants the opportunity to be named. Age is one of the points of variation between our two studies but was not the deciding factor in the decision of whether to offer participants the opportunity to be named in either study. The participants in Paris’ study were in their pre-teens when they took part and thus their parents/guardians gave proxy consent in addition to signed assent being provided by the children. Other researchers have named participants who are children (e.g., Hohneck, 2013; Roth, Tobin, Elmesky, Carambo, McKnight, & Beers, 2004). Roth et al. (2004) included one school student participant as a co-author because of their contribution to the writing. We cannot be sure about how well Paris’ pre-teen participants understood the implications of being named, but the same question applies to adult participants named in any research. Longitudinal research with children and adults of varying ages could help develop our understanding of a minimum age or stage of development at which the opportunity of being named might be appropriate.

The vulnerability of Jacob’s adult participants to potential negative consequences discussed above was more important to consider than their age or understanding of informed consent . It is, however, an example of paternalistic decision-making by us as researchers that Jacob’s participants were not offered the opportunity of being named. People with a history of criminal offending have been named in previous research. Four of the five co-authors of Bosworth, Campbell, Demby, Ferranti, and Santos (2005) were prisoners at the time of the research, and they provided an insider perspective on being involved in research in prison. Similarly, Stan Coster is a co-author of the article by Andrae, McIntosh, and Coster (2016) which focuses on Coster’swhakapapa and life experiences including imprisonment in Aotearoa/New Zealand. These two examples highlight how the issue of naming raises questions about the boundaries between participants and co-authors, particularly in participatory research.

Both Paris and Jacob have insider status as Māori and as insiders within their research sites, Paris being from Ōtaki and Jacob being involved with Moana House. Much of the research in which participants have been named has involved insider researchers (Hohneck, 2013; Mahuika, 2011; McLellan, 2013; O’Carroll, 2013; Olson, 2013; Tamati et al., 2008). Insider status is relevant for the decision to name participants as it increases the likelihood of ongoing relationships between researchers and participants, which is crucial for continued consultation with participants regarding their decision to be named or anonymised. The seeking of consent moves beyond signing a form on only one occasion if participants are being offered the opportunity of being named because confirmation of ongoing consent from participants is essential after the results have been drafted. Consent is underpinned by the participants trusting the researcher, particularly in research with indigenous peoples (Smith, 2012). Insider status can facilitate trust and the process of community consultation, which merges with the seeking of consent from individuals in indigenist research (Smith, 2012). At the same time, researchers can benefit from reflecting critically on the doors opened by their insider status in order to avoid taking advantage of pre-established trust.

The anticipated form of dissemination of the research output is also important in the decision about whether to name participants. Jacob’s participants were not involved in any formal dissemination of the findings but did engage in informal feedback during house meetings. In Paris’ study we anticipated that participants would be involved in public dissemination in the local community from the outset; thus, it would have been contradictory to then anonymise them in the thesis. The availability of some or all of these reports on the internet can make it possible for the identity of anonymised participants and research sites to be inferred. To mitigate this, for example, Michie (2011) raised a crucial point in stipulating that future researchers citing his thesis should not list the names of any of his participants who agreed to be named in the thesis as their permission to be named did not extend to future publications over which they would have no control. Similarly, Paris’ thesis is not available online in order to limit the possibility of the photographs or quotes being re-used without permission from participants.

Another consideration is who is responsible for the decision about whether the opportunity of being named is offered, which again relates to the self-determination of indigenous participants and the power relations between researchers and participants. In both our studies, we made the decision about whether the opportunity to be named was offered. It has been argued by van den Hoonaard (2003) that the decision should come from participants themselves. This occurred for Scarth (2016), who was asked by some participants to include their names and the names of their deceased relatives. The local ethics committee granted permission and about half of the 16 participants chose to be named. In some instances, researchers may be pressured by ethics committees, supervisors, collaborators, gatekeepers , or community members to enforce anonymity or to offer participants the opportunity of being named.

Based on our research and past research involving naming of participants or discussing reasons for anonymising participants we have developed a model of five degrees of anonymising or naming of participants:

  1. 1.

    ‘True’ anonymity occurs only when informants are never asked their names (e.g., Hohneck, 2013; see also van den Hoonaard, 2003, 2011). This means that researchers are very unlikely to be able to breach informants’ confidentiality in research outputs or in court. When applying this approach, the researcher has limited ability to re-contact participants and must plan to collect data and permissions during the first contact.

  2. 2.

    ‘Full’ anonymising occurs when participants’ names are known to researchers (e.g., on consent forms) but all identifying details are masked in research outputs including details of the research site (e.g., Waikari, 2011, masked school names). Whether this form of anonymising guarantees the untraceability of participants in qualitative research is questionable (see Guenther, 2009; Nespor, 2000; Scarth, 2016; Tilley & Woodthorpe, 2011; van den Hoonaard, 2003; Walford, 2005). Jacob’s study applied this form of anonymising. When applying this approach, the researcher has to be mindful of information communicated in quotes that may reveal the identity of a participant, other person, and/or research site.

  3. 3.

    ‘Soft’ naming occurs when limited details of the participants’ names are provided such that identification is possible by the participants themselves but more difficult for others depending on their familiarity with the research site (e.g., only first names were used by McLellan, 2013; O’Carroll, 2013; Scarth, 2016; Tamati et al., 2008). When applying this approach, the researcher has to check that participants would be willing to be named in this way once the research output has been completed, and whether other people can be identified from quotes must also be considered.

  4. 4.

    ‘Full’ naming occurs when the research site and full names of participants are provided such that identification is clear to all readers to the extent they could potentially locate the participants (e.g., Hohneck, 2013; Mahuika, 2011; Michie, 2011; Pidduck, 2016). Paris’ study applied this form of naming. When applying this approach, the researcher has to check that participants are willing to be identified once the research output has been completed and be mindful of whether other people and organisations can be identified by any details accessible from participants’ quotes.

  5. 5.

    Co-authorship occurs when the participant is recognised as a co-researcher (e.g., Andrae et al., 2016; Bosworth et al., 2005; Roth et al., 2004). An opaque form of co-authorship may occur at the same time as ‘full’ anonymising by ‘soft’ naming if individuals act as both participants and researchers without any clear distinction (see also Wilkinson & Kitzinger, 2013). When applying this approach, the boundary between researcher and participant blurs, but the instigating researcher ideally should be working equitably with the co-author(s) and would consider the ethics of revealing or suppressing information about input in the research.

This model provides a way of thinking about the appropriate level of naming or anonymising for a particular study and can serve as a resource for discussions with regulatory bodies and community groups. The model is not specific to research with indigenous people but pertinent to indigenist research, given the centrality of self-determination when considering whether indigenous participants are to be offered the opportunity of being named.

In conclusion, our discussion of the possibility of offering participants the option of being named raises important questions about the ethics of anonymity and non-maleficence . The answer to our challenge to the norm of enforced participant anonymity is not to swing to enforced naming of participants or a presumption that all participants should be encouraged to become co-authors, though that is a worthy endeavour where achieved. Guenther (2009) notes that the debate around anonymity of participants can result in researchers being ‘uncomfortable with either option of naming or not naming’ participants (p. 414). In turn, this state of discomfort for researchers is productive in that it keeps the ethics of naming or anonymising on the agenda as a process that always requires attention and innovation. Additional research into the practices of naming or anonymising participants and ongoing reflection through academic discussions and community discussions is required to develop these initial guidelines and reflections from our two studies.

We end on a note of optimism that critical research, particularly emancipatory social justice research and participatory community action research, is leading to benefits for marginalised groups. The issue of naming participants is very relevant in research with indigenous peoples who have been subjected through research to historical injustices; discussion of the considerations around naming or anonymising participants adds to critical debate on the best ways of achieving greater autonomy for communities involved in research that is about, with, and truly for them.