“You Didn’t Have to Pay Me”: The Meanings of Monetary Incentives in Interview Research

Abstract

This paper explores the social meanings of monetary research incentives and the ramifications of their use in interview research. I argue that monetary incentives produce complex social meanings that significantly and diversly shape the relationship between interview researchers and participants and, as such, impact the types and volume of data that interviews produce. I discuss three distinct social meanings that emerged in my qualitative research interviews with forty-four low-wage freelance refugee interpreters in Canada. First, I show that in research with low-income workers, incentives can be interpreted as symbols of cross-class allyship that place the researcher in trusting and highly cooperative relationships of solidarity with participants. Second, the use of research incentives may also, and somewhat paradoxically, deepen socio-economic hierarchies by placing researchers and participants in relations resembling those between employers and employees. Third, research incentives may also be used by participants to resist social hierarchies and establish relations of benevolent and charitable equivalence in the interview encounter. Thus, the various social meanings of monetary incentives are productive of distinct interpersonal dynamics that shape the process of data collection as well as recruitment.

The bright pink Canadian fifty-dollar bill sat on the table until our decision to move to a different corner of the public library finally prompted Soraya, ¹ a refugee interpreter I interviewed in 2023, to pick up the money and place it in her handbag. The bill was the monetary incentive I paid all participants at the beginning of the interview process. Although Soraya had already initialed a log recording her receipt of the payment and had been informed that the money was hers whether or not she completed the interview, the bill had stayed untouched while we both tried to ignore its hefty presence. When Soraya finally took the bill, she seemed reluctant and uncomfortable. As we were standing up and moving away from our original table, she announced awkwardly that she now has to take the money. Supposedly, without the influence of external circumstances, she would have allowed the money to remain on the table indefinitely.

Soraya’s reluctant handling of the research incentive was not uncommon among the forty-four interviews that I conducted with refugee interpreters across Canada in the summer and fall of 2023. Although a handful of interpreters received the incentive with minimal comment or complication, the majority performed intricate rituals that distanced them, both physically and symbolically, from the money they had received. Most commonly, these rituals translated into allowing the cash to linger in a liminal space (often shared tables) until an eventual take-up was necessitated by the conclusion of the interview or an external factor, such as the wandering eyes of a passerby or a threatening gust of wind. Those who were interviewed in the safety and privacy of their personal residences, where passersby, winds, and rearrangements of seatings did not cause concern, rarely took or even touched the money while I was present. Although the money was paid willingly, it was, evidently, received reluctantly.

Interviewees’ unease in receiving the incentives was perhaps not completely surprising. After all, Canadian norms of decorum hold that greed (in this case, eagerness for monetary payments) is ‘bad’ and knowledge production (in this case, participation in a research project) is ‘good’. Thus, interviewees might have understandably felt uncomfortable navigating the contradictory and morally laden meanings of the research incentive. Indeed, several interpreters insisted that they would have participated in the interview even if I had not offered a payment. Others told me that if I had more questions, I could contact them without providing further compensation. Some participants verified that the payment of incentives did not inconvenience me financially. Occasionally, participants even expressed surprise at being offered money, despite the fact that the monetary incentive was clearly mentioned in all calls for participants, as per the ethical protocols approved by the research ethics review board at my university. ² Moreover, nearly every participant thanked me for the payment, in addition to and in distinction from my interest in studying the conditions of their work.

Although somewhat understandable, my interview participants’ intricate and at times awkward handling of the monetary incentive is particularly noteworthy because refugee interpreters in Canada are largely, although not exclusively, precarious workers who rely on irregular short-term ‘gigs’. These workers are hourly wage earners who are well-accustomed to quantifying the value of their work time in monetary units and regularly take on short-term jobs. Despite this, they appeared to have much difficulty accepting payments for the time they spent answering my questions. Clearly, the payment I offered carried meanings distinct from those routinely practiced in their professional activities. But why would receiving the research incentive be so difficult for participants?

Turning to gift theory might help us better understand the significant social conundrums faced by my participants. Gift theorists have long suggested that giving is an act of deep social meaning. As Marcel Mauss (1990) argued in his seminal essay, giving establishes consequential social bonds between givers and receivers. These bonds, which are produced through seeming generosity, commonly and somewhat paradoxically (Derrida, 1992) include an obligation to reciprocity. In other words, in the newly established social bond, the receiver is posited to reciprocate by a subsequent act of giving (back). Of course, not all forms of giving are necessarily underwritten by a tacit requirement of reciprocation. But, outside of the agapic giving in intimate relationships (Belk & Coon, 1993), the suspension of expectations of reciprocity only leads to the institution of a highly hierarchical social order in which the receiver becomes, materially and symbolically, dominated by the giver (Bourdieu, 1977, 1990; Sahlins, 1972). In short, much is at stake in the purportedly simple payment of research incentives.

Examined through these lenses, my participants’ rituals of reluctance can perhaps be interpreted as means of understanding and negotiating the norms and expectation of the social bond produced by my giving. The irregular and ambiguous nature of research incentives only further complicates these negotiations. First, most workers do not routinely interact with researchers who offer monetary incentives. As such, the exact social meaning of this exchange is novel and unknown to participants. Hence, their reluctance is perhaps a subtle and socially acceptable way of acquiring more information (and reassurance) about the social bond into which they are about to enter. Second, the legitimate ethical considerations that underpin research incentives turn them into impenetrable social mysteries. After all, participants are told that the payment of incentives does not undermine their free and informed consent and does not obligate them to participate in the research. ³ In other words, while researchers pay, they do not necessarily expect to receive the data they seek. Thus, by default and explicitly, incentives suspend expectations of reciprocity. To make matters even more socially ambiguous, participants are told that their decision not to reciprocate will not lead to any negative consequences. If they do not reciprocate by providing the data the researcher needs, they will not be bound to hierarchical relations of superiority and inferiority with the researcher. While necessary from the point of research ethics, these stipulations make research incentives deeply and troublingly ambiguous: incentives are neither a ‘gift’ (which are either premised on an intimate bond or would require an equivalent form of reciprocity), nor are they clear ‘wages’ (which would contractually obligate receivers to participate), nor do they carry the typical norms and sanctions. Put differently, research incentives make little social sense.

The difficulties with monetary incentives open the door to significant and diverse practices of meaning making. This paper explores the meanings of monetary research incentives and the ramifications of their use in interview research. I argue that monetary incentives produce complex social meanings that significantly and diversly shape the relationship between interview researchers and participants and, as such, impact the types and volume of data that interviews produce. This might be particularly true for research with low-income earning participants and when, such as in the case of this study, the monetary value of the research incentive is equivalent to or higher than the (albeit unfair and exploitative) market value assigned to participants’ time. ⁴

For decades now interview researchers have argued that interviews are rich social interactions (Warren, 2012) during which interviewers and interviewees co-produce meaning (DeVault, 1999; Dingwall, 1997; Foley, 2012; Holstein & Gubrium, 1995; Rapley, 2004; Riach, 2009; Silverman, 1993). This means that what interviewees utter and interviewers collect are shaped by a plethora of social factors and circumstances that surround the interview encounter (Gubrium & Holstein, 2009). These factors include, to name only a few, interviewers’ and interviewees’ social identities and positioning (Jacobson & Mustafa, 2019; Komalasari et al., 2022; Metcalfe, 2013; van Bochove et al., 2015), languages and cultural frameworks (Court & Abbas, 2013), self-presentation (Alby & Fatigante, 2014), embodiment and bodily practices (Burns, 2003; Del Busso, 2007; Ellingson, 2012) and even the location of interviews (Herzog, 2005). I suggest that monetary incentives are a similarly meaningful factor. Yet, despite their widespread use in interview research, the role of monetary incentives in shaping social dynamics and interactions of research interviews has been largely overlooked.

The existing scholarship has, by and large, examined monetary research incentives in three capacities. First, incentives have been promoted as an effective tool for boosting recruitment and response rates, particularly in survey research (Cantor et al., 2008; Singer et al., 1999; Singleton & Straits, 2012). Second, in line with ethics of community and care in research (Cloke, 2002; Popke, 2003), feminist researchers have advocated for compensation as a political and ethical form of care for participants, particularly those grappling with economic insecurity (Goodman et al., 2004; Hall, 2017; Warnock et al., 2022). Third, and perhaps most commonly, researchers have examined the ethical ramifications of the use of monetary incentives in recruitment of participants. In particular, these discussions have proposed guidelines for determining the value and forms of research incentives that would not undermine principles of voluntary participation or mold the data (Gelinas et al., 2018; Grant & Sugarman, 2004; Hammett & Sporton, 2012; Head, 2009; Speiglman & Spear, 2009; Sullivan & Cain, 2004). In short, scholars have primarily explored the procedural and ethical, rather than the substantive, implications of the use of monetary incentives in interview research.

Thus, much remains to be learned about the social meanings produced by and the impact of monetary incentives in the interview process. In the few instances that researchers have considered the substantive role of monetary incentives, incentives have proved to be significant and impactful factors in the interview encounter. For example, Cook and Nunkoosing (2008) have shown that the use of monetary incentives can inadvertently monetize and commodify the interview process and elicit resistance in interviewees. Others have highlighted the dense meanings attached to the value of incentives in particular. According to these scholars, incentives that are considered too small in value can produce a sense of exploitation and alienation in participants and lead to worse outcomes than not paying incentives at all (Bolle & Otto, 2010; VanderWalde, 2005).

While undoubtedly important and insightful, these studies have, in my view, neglected the diversity of meanings produced by monetary incentives and overemphasized the potentially prohibitive implications of their use in establishing voluntary, eager, and positive research relations. This article remedies these shortcomings by offering two key contributions. First, I demonstrate that the implications of the use of research incentives can be traced to the meanings established over their exchange between researchers and participants. As motivation crowding theory (Frey & Jegen, 2001) suggest, the ways incentives impact people’s behaviour (i.e. the implications of their use) is a result of how incentives are interpreted (i.e. the meanings associated with them) (also see Andersen & Pallesen, 2008; Kim & Bak, 2020). Second, I explore diverse meanings associated with monetary incentives and discuss both the potentially prohibitive and facilitatory effects depending on the meanings (co)produced in the interview encounter. Put differently, I show that monetary incentives are sites of diverse and complex meaning making and these meanings impact the research process and data gathering.

The interviews that provide the basis of my discussion were conducted as part of a larger, multi-method study of language interpretation services for refugee claimants in Canada. This project, including monetary incentives, was funded by a SSHRC Insight Development Grant (#430-2022-00776) and explored the recruitment, training, and employment conditions of freelance (independent contractor) refugee interpreters. Interpreters were recruited through refugee law offices, interpreters’ associations and agencies, refugee support organizations and snowball sampling. As per the ethical protocol of the research ethics approval, the incentive was clearly advertised in the recruitment material and paid out at the beginning of the interview session and once participants had read and signed the consent form. The consent material clearly indicated that the incentive was not meant to override the principle of voluntary participation and did not oblige participants to complete the interview. Interviews were conducted in locations of convenience for interpreters and were often suggested by them. These most commonly included public libraries and parks, coffee shops, and in fewer instances interpreters’ private homes. The incentive was paid in cash either as $50 bills or a combination of smaller bills and was placed on a surface within the comfortable reach of participants. I presented the money with a rehearsed and neutral tone that framed the incentive both as part of the ‘administrative’ portion of the interview and a means to thank them for their time. Upon payment, I also asked participants to date and initial a log that served as financial accountability on my part.

It is worth mentioning that the use of cash to compensate research participants in this study was perhaps in itself impactful in the creation of meanings and relational dynamics that emerged. The payment of cash, as opposed to more coded means such as gift cards, may have particularly exposed the monetary nature of the interaction and exacerbated the relational dynamics that ensued. However, my choice to use cash was intentional and informed by a number of ethical and political considerations. Most importantly, gift cards limit the ability of participants to use the funds fully and freely. For example, gift cards often require recipients to spend the funds at a specific store or within a specific timeline, and often operate as an incentive to shop at a specific business. While gift cards that allow the use of funds at any store (such as Visa gift cards) to some extent remedy this limitation, they are problematic in other ways. These cards often charge a surplus fee in addition to the monetary value of the card itself. This means that these gift cards diverge parts of public research funds to private third parties, who are often large multinational corporations. Other means of compensation, such as email, bank and online (such as paypal) transfers, often impose further labour on participants and compromise their confidentiality by creating records of payments that do not remain within the full control of researchers. Given these issues, I chose cash payments as an imperfect yet less compromised means of compensating research participants.

In my research with refugee language interpreters, the use of monetary research incentives produced three distinct meanings, each with their own sets of consequences and dynamics. First, incentives were interpreted as symbols of cross-class solidarity and allyship, hence strengthening and enhancing research relations. Second, incentives were interpreted as quasi-wages and, as such, unintentionally instituted unequal employment-like relational dynamics. Third, incentives were interpreted as charitable donations and used by participants to re-establish relational equality through subsequent acts of benevolence. Of course, the specific meanings that emerged in this project may be most, or even only narrowly, relevant to the use of incentives in interviews with low-income earning workers. However, the diversity of these meanings suggest that monetary research incentives are rich sites of meaning making in interviews, and well capable of producing diverse dynamics and consequences. The following sections will explore each of these meanings in depth.

Incentives as Symbols of Solidarity and Allyship

When I began the process of data collection for this project, I was aware that the use of research incentives may create an undue sense of obligation or indebtedness in research participants. To ensure that the payment of incentives did not undermine the ethical principle of voluntary participation, I prepared procedures that, in my mind, would alleviate the emotionally unequal burden of the incentives. These included providing the payments alongside phrases such as ‘this payment is a routine part of the research process’ or ‘this is just to thank you for your time’. These phrases framed the incentive as an administrative element of the research process and a deserved component in a mutual exchange, rather than a personal debt or favour. Of course, I knew that despite these procedures, the research incentives were likely to be interpreted as forms of benevolence and, therefore, enhance rapport with participants. Admittedly, I had not foreseen the deeper political meanings that the use of incentives instigated in several of the interview encounters.

As my interactions with participants suggested, the payment of research incentives not only led to expressions of gratitude, but it also instilled and fortified a sense of allyship between myself and the participants. In several cases, research incentives became a launching pad for immediate deepening of trust at the outset of the interview. This sense of allyship often emerged quickly and became solidified over the course of a few small but meaningful interactions. First, participants often demonstrated reluctance or discomfort in taking the money (by verbalizing phrases such as ‘this is not necessary’ or ‘there is no need for you to pay me’) or thanked me shyly for the payment. Next, I responded by asserting that the payment is routine and necessary and an appropriate compensation for their valuable time. This simple acknowledgement of the value of participants’ time drastically transformed the nature of our interactions. The respondents frequently responded with an expression of gratitude that signified a new direction in our evolving relationship. This time, gratitude was expressed not for the payment itself, but for acknowledging the value of their time. I was no longer a stranger with an unknown agenda, but an ally that understood their exploitation as hourly wage-earning workers. Clearly signifying this sentiment, in multiple instances respondents quipped with statements such as ‘say that to our employer!’, signaling both their wish and trust that I would act and speak in their interest. My laughter-filled response, ‘I sure will try!’ further strengthened the bond. We were, thereon, on the ‘same team’ and, thus, our relationship was notably transformed.

The transformative power of simple acknowledgements of the value of participants’ time was perhaps not fully surprising given the conditions of interpreters’ employment. Lack of appreciation for their time and skills is at the heart of freelance interpreters’ grievances about their employment and working conditions. As precarious gig workers, interpreters often struggle to establish livable rates of compensation with their clients. Their hourly rates of payment are a particular point of vexation because, as several interpreters told me in interviews, hourly wages not only constitute interpreters’ income, but also a replacement for all the workplace employment benefits they lack as self-employed workers. In this context of grave disenfranchisement as freelance workers, my unsolicited acknowledgement of their value was understandably meaningful. The impact was often more profound on those for whom interpretation and translation amounted to their sole or major source of income. For these workers, framing the incentive as a deserved compensation elevated me to the position of an ally, a sympathetic outsider who understood the struggles of their work and was ‘on their side’.

The participants with whom I forged a relation of allyship showed great interest and investment in my research. They often inquired about my goals and findings, asked to read the final report, and indicated an interest in sustaining a connection beyond the interview encounter. Indeed, some remained in contact and provided occasional updates about the changes in their working conditions. For instance, when the federal government increased the rates of payment for immigration interpreters in the winter of 2024, Steban, an interpreter I had interviewed in October of the previous year, called me to share the good news. During this conversation, Steban asked if my research was the reason for the increase in rates. I quickly clarified that the results of my study had not yet been published and were unlikely to have been the cause for this happy change. Nonetheless, our warm conversation revealed Steban’s deep trust in my solidarity with him and other interpreters. I was an ally. Our goals were aligned. The change was a ‘win’ for both of us, regardless of how exactly it had come about.

Importantly, the emergence of strong relationships of solidarity between myself and participants often had important consequences for both the data generated in the interviews and the recruitment process. Comforted by my allyship, participants often spoke boldly and freely about the processes and procedures that denied them dignified and comfortable working conditions. In some cases, interviewees even discussed their attempts at organizing collective actions that they would likely not have shared with persons they associated with employers or employers’ interests. Moreover, those with whom I established strong relationships of allyship were particularly helpful in connecting me with other interpreters and assisting me in recruiting other participants. In many of these instances, they pulled me within their inner collegial networks and encouraged other disenchanted interpreters to trust their experiences with me. Our allyship had, evidently, transformed the data gathering process from a one-way exchange to a much more meaningful relationship of mutual help: my goal in conducting successful research on the working conditions of interpreters was their goal in improving their working conditions. In some instances, relationships of allyship with interpreters translated to touching moments of interpersonal care and generosity. For example, after the conclusion of a particularly late interview, one interviewee insisted on giving me a cherished sweet treat he had recently brought back from his home country. We both knew, of course, the relational significance of this offer: we were no longer strangers, but allies invested in one another’s wellbeing. Allyship was a strong bond to be sustained with care and mutual benevolence.

Incentives as Quasi-Wages

Interestingly, the use of research incentives in this project did not always lead to transcending professional and class positions through bonds of solidarity. To the contrary, in some instances, dispersal of research incentives inadvertently instituted a hierarchal economic order. In these instances, and despite my best efforts, the incentive seemed to be interpreted as a ‘wage’ that transformed the interview into a relationship of quasi-employment. As the party providing the payment, I was placed in the role of the ‘employer’, and interviewees, who received the payment, took on the role of the hired ‘employee’. Thus, in these dynamics, I, as the quasi-employer, was expected to set the expectations of performance, and interviewees, as the quasi-employees, worked to fulfill them. Needless to say, this hierarchal dynamic was deeply impactful to the process and outcome of interviews.

While troubling to me, this quasi-employment dynamic was perhaps not out of line with the dominant and familiar patterns of interpreters’ employment. Freelance language interpreters are regularly hired for short assignments that are, in terms of their length and verbal nature, similar to participation in a research interview. Given these similarities, it was perhaps not surprising that several participants understood and treated the research interview as another booked gig in their schedule. Indeed, a few interpreters refused to take part in this research project precisely because the incentive I offered did not match the actual market value of their time or the common terms of their employment. For example, one interpreter I corresponded with in the fall of 2023 informed me that he is usually hired in blocks of three hours, guaranteeing a considerably higher actual compensation than I offered for one hour of his time. Once I confirmed that I was not able to match this guaranteed minimum of payment, he declined to participate in this project. Clearly, and understandably, for this interpreter participating in the research interview was a ‘job’, and one that did not offer the best earning potential.

Some of those who chose to participate in this study also appeared to perceive the interview as a form of paid employment. In these instances, interviewees often emphasized their eagerness to meet my research needs and expectations, beyond routine expressions of politeness that were common to all interviews. Indeed, some took up the task of fulfilling my research needs with a seriousness normally afforded to work duties. For instance, during the scheduling process, a few prospective interviewees inquired about my areas of investigation to ensure that they were a good ‘fit’ for the ‘job’. Others asked if and how they should prepare for the interview, a practice resembling common preparations performed before an interpretation gig. Employment-like relations of exchange were also established at the outset of the interview. For example, one interviewee expressed his conscious attunement to my research needs, above and beyond his own areas of interest, by informing me before I began recording that he will remain closely focused on answering the questions as not to ‘take up’ the time by going on various tangents. Employment-like dynamics of expectations and fulfillment were also evident after the conclusion of interviews. In several instances, interviewees verified whether they had provided me with ‘enough’ or the ‘right’ kind of information, even though they had answered all of the interview questions.

While several interviewees enacted employment-like relations, the most notable example of this relational dynamic emerged in the interview with Veronica, a full-time, low-wage Portuguese interpreter. Over the course of the interview encounter, Veronica worked very hard to ensure she fulfilled my research needs and provided me with the best ‘service’. For example, clearly adjusting her performance to my perceived need for accurate and relevant information, Veronica interrupted the flow of the interview several times to verify the veracity of her statements by searching and retrieving relevant documents on her device. Although I reassured her repeatedly that I did not expect her to provide any information beyond her existing knowledge and experience, she was adamant to produce the maximum volume of relevant data she could possibly offer.

Further, throughout the interview Veronica actively sought my feedback and laboured to uncover my unstated expectations. For instance, when retrieving documents pertaining to her recruitment and training, Veronica repeatedly used phrases such as ‘let me know if this [document] is helpful’, ‘let me know what you think of this one’, or ‘what do you think about this one?’. In some instances, Veronica took the task of fulfilling my research needs to surprising limits. For instance, at one point during the interview she even asked ‘if [she was] talking too much’. Unfortunately, my multiple assurances did not seem to put Veronica’s mind at ease, as her speech even took on undertones of self-admonishment for her supposed failure to meet my expectations. See for instance the excerpt below from her interview recording, in which she seemingly blames herself for not having anticipated my needs before the interview:

I’m going to look for [the document]… it’s going to be more productive [for you if I provide it]. I’m very sorry. I saw that you, yeah… I have to be more thoughtful. (Interview on June 6, 2023; emphasis added)

As this exchange clearly indicates, Veronica remained highly attuned and interested in providing data that was ‘helpful’ or ‘productive’ to me. Tackling the impossible task of fulfilling unstated expectations, she blamed herself for not having been ‘thoughtful’ enough. Clearly, Veronica and I operated under very different assumptions about the interview. For me, the interview was an occasion for collecting any information I could within a comfortable and low stake setting. For Veronica, the interview appeared to be a job at which she needed to perform well, even if the requirements remained woefully unarticulated. Once we had concluded the formal interview, she even asked if she had given me ‘enough’. Evidently, Veronica felt the pressure to perform to some unknown standard in exchange for the payment she had received. A deeply conscientious worker, Veronica clearly strived to perform well. Although somewhat an extreme case in point, Veronica was not alone in her interpretation of the interview as a form of quasi-employment. Interviews with other participants also revealed the understanding that in exchange for an hourly payment, interviewees were to strive to fulfill, or even anticipate, my research expectations as good hired ‘workers’.

Incentives as (Co-)Practices of Benevolence

Although research incentives were most commonly interpreted as a symbol of solidarity or a quasi-wage by participants, the social connotations of the incentive were not limited to these two meanings. In fewer, yet no less significant instances, research participants appeared to associate the incentive with a practice of benevolence. In these interpretations, the incentive emerged as a good and charitable deed akin to a donation to which they also could become a party. Unsurprisingly, thus, those who imbued the incentive with this meaning, treated both the incentive and their relationship with me in a wholly distinct fashion that established relational equality and equivalency between us, against a third-party recipient of benevolence.

Notably, those who appeared to interpret the incentive as a practice of benevolence did not resist receiving the money. However, they were quick to inform me that although they appreciated the payment, they did not intend to use it for any self-serving or self-motivated reasons. Rather, they received the money with the intention of passing it on to more deserving recipients. In one instance, for example, upon receiving the incentive the interviewee announced that she planned to donate the money to a refugee family who she knew were in need of winter clothing for their children. Another interviewee emailed me a few days after the interview to inform me that the money had now been donated to others. In all these instances, the monetary incentive was transformed into a co-practice of benevolence, in which the interviewee and I ultimately worked together to make a donation to a third, supposedly more needy, party.

While undoubtedly a kind gesture of goodwill, the class dynamics of these practices of benevolence should not escape our attention. Indeed, none of the interviewees who participated in making this specific meaning of the research incentive were full-time, professional interpreters whose subsistence depended on interpretation work. Rather, most appeared to be placed securely in the middle classes through other means. Some had full-time middle-class occupations and only worked as an interpreter occasionally and due to their personal interest in the field. Others were retirees or homemakers who had become involved in interpretation work as a form of semi-volunteer service to their communities. In other words, their involvement in interpretation work was mostly voluntary and not due to financial necessity. This financial freedom, along with their community-oriented outlook, freed them to give the incentive such meanings of benevolence.

The treatment of the incentive as a practice of benevolence in which interviewees could eagerly participate had significant implications for the relational dynamics of the interview. Participants’ subsequent acts of donation following the receipt of the incentive were arguably unconscious attempts at reworking the inevitable hierarchy that one-sided monetary payments were to introduce in our relationships. No doubt, participants’ insistence on subsequent practices of benevolence re-established an interpersonal equivalence between us: it was not that I paid them. But I paid them, and they paid the money forward. The incentive was not a wage, nor were the participants in need of my solidarity. They were neither employees, nor subjects of my allyship. Rather, we were both co-conspirators in a practice of benevolence that was to benefit a third party. Thus, we were ‘equal’ and ‘equally good’. This sense of equivalency did, in turn, produce relatively comfortable research relations. As equal parties, these participants’ contribution to the data collection was generous and unapologetic. They did not appear to seek much assurance about meeting my expectations, nor were they overly keen to understand the larger political aims of my project. Nonetheless, these relatively comfortable relational dynamics were established against a backdrop of stark class inequality that made other parties the recipient of our mutual benevolence. Hence, these respondents’ practices of benevolence were also, and inevitably, a signifier of class position and privilege that they shared with me.

Conclusion

This paper explored the diverse meanings and ramifications of the use of monetary incentives in qualitative research interviews. Despite their common use in interview research, little has been written on the substantive role of monetary incentives in shaping research relations, or their potential to enhance or impede the process of data collection. This paper remedies this shortcoming by demonstrating that monetary incentives are meaningful and influential factors in the interview encounter. As the specific examples discussed in this paper suggest, monetary incentives can produce significantly diverse meanings that, in turn, inform the interpersonal dynamics during the interview.

In this paper, I explored three distinct meanings that emerged in my interviews with forty-four freelance refugee language interpreters in Canada. First, I showed that in research with low-income workers, incentives can be interpreted as symbols of cross-class allyship that place the researcher in trusting and highly cooperative relationships of solidarity with participants. In these instances, the use of incentives strengthens rapport and facilitates collection of rich and ample data. Second, the use of research incentives may also, and somewhat paradoxically, work to deepen socio-economic hierarchies by placing researchers and participants in relations resembling those between employers and employees. In these instances, research participants may work hard to ‘earn’ the incentive by providing ‘enough’ or ‘good’ data that fulfills the assumed research needs and expectations of the researcher. Third, research incentives may also be used by participants to resist social hierarchies and establish relations of benevolent and charitable equivalence in the interview encounter. Although these specific social meanings were perhaps somewhat distinct to the context of research with low-wage, precarious workers, they, nonetheless, are illuminative of the varied and consequential implications of the use of monetary incentives.

The diverse and distinct social meanings discussed in this paper suggest that monetary research incentives are rich sites of meaning making in qualitative interview research. Indeed, as this paper argues, monetary incentives may be interpreted diversely by participants. Whether interpreted as bonding political symbols, quasi-wages, or charitable donations, the social meanings of monetary incentives are productive of significant interpersonal dynamics that inevitably shape the process of data collection and participant-assisted recruitment.