The Protocol

Author

David Huron

Formal Observation - The Protocol

What distinguishes formal observation from informal observation is that formal observation is guided by a protocol. A protocol is a written procedure for doing something, such as gathering information.

Sample Problem

Consider the following question. I’m curious about sad music. It seems odd that people would willing listen to music that apparently makes them sad. Among my friends, most people say they enjoy listening to sad music, but not everyone agrees. So here is my question: What proportion of the general population enjoys listening to sad music?

Unfortunately, I can’t afford to pay a pollster to carry out a worldwide survey, and I don’t have the resources to do it myself. I could carry out a survey among students in the School of Music, but they are all musicians. I could simply ask my friends or students, but many of my friends are professional musicians and the majority of my friends are academics—hardly representative of the general population. I spend most of my time in Ohio, California, and Canada. It would be nice to sample from a wider range of people.

Question: When (I asked myself) do I most frequently encounter people who are not like me—people from other regions of the world who are not academics? Answer: Taxi drivers! Almost all taxi drivers I meet are foreigners. Moreover, I am paying the driver. Why not engage the driver as, in effect, a paid research informant?

The Protocol

So here is my observational protocol. It only works for taxi rides of about 10 minutes or longer—and only if the traffic and noise conditions permit a safe conversation.

  • Every time I enter a cab, I start up a conversation with the driver. Where are you from? How long have you lived in this country? When was the last time you visited your home country? Do you have family here? Do you have any children? How old are they?

    (The aim is to establish a rapport with the driver and to determine his/her cultural background. Also, I want to know if the driver is married—see below.)

  • What do you miss from home? Food? Family? Climate? What about music from your home country? Who is a musician you like?

    (The aim is to shift the conversation toward music.)

  • I like music: can you recommend someone from your culture I could listen to?

    (The aim here is provide me with an opportunity to pull out a pen and paper. I write down the names of recommended musicians and also record the driver’s cultural background. I keep my pen ready.)

  • I often ask about dancing, wedding traditions, whether the local community sponsors concerts of visiting musicians, etc.

    (The aim is to keep the discussion centered on music and music-related matters.)

  • Having laid the groundwork, now comes the critical research question. I use the same exact wording each time: “Some people like listening to sad music, and some people don’t like listening to sad music. Which are you?” I ask.

    (With pen in hand, I unobtrusively record the exact words spoken by the driver.)

  • If the driver is married, I then follow up with the same question about his/her spouse.

    (The aim is to expand the sample beyond (typically) male drivers to include females.)

Over past eight years, I’ve collected the responses from thirty taxi drivers, including drivers from Denmark, Ecuador, England, Estonia, Ethiopia, Germany, Haiti, Israel, Kashmir, Morocco, Netherlands, Mali, Pakistan, Peru, Punjab, Somalia, Tunisia, and Turkey. This is hardly a random sample. The majority are Moslems from north Africa or the Indian subcontinent. They are all men between 25 and 50 years of age. They tend to be ambitious (most emigrated from their home countries) and they all enjoy driving cars. Nevertheless, this is a convenience sample that gets me out of the English-speaking academic world in which I am normally stuck.

The results so far? Like sad music (13), don’t like sad music (15), sometimes like sad music (2). (I just added the spouse question, and so don’t yet have pertinent results for spouses.) The responses have ranged from one driver who said “I never listen to sad music; it makes we want to commit suicide,” to the New York cabbie from Mali who said “Sad music touches my soul.”

Incidentally, on a trip to Peru, the driver didn’t speak English, but fortunately, we had a translator in the vehicle. When I asked the question, the translator responded “Oh, all Peruvians love sad music.” She didn’t think it was necessary to ask the driver. Nevertheless, I politely asked her to ask the question of the driver. His answer was that he didn’t like sad music.

Your research opportunity awaits.