Navigating Ethical Dilemmas in Creative Participatory Research in Forced Displacement: Lessons from Ruptured Atlas, Part III
Note: The following post is the third in a four-part series about Ruptured Atlas, a trauma-informed, participatory creative research project that sets out to map the intimate odyssey of an uprooted community – the Yazidis of northern Iraq – through creative, collaborative storytelling. Click the following links to access Part One, Part Two, and Part Four.
Part III
Responsibilities to Participants – and to Ourselves: Managing Vicarious Trauma
“Tracing my journey on a map brought back vivid memories of the struggles and resilience tied to those locations. It made me realise how much my story is connected to the spaces I’ve occupied.”
Ruptured Atlas researchers, 2025
Faeza’s map of her family’s ordeal in trying and failing to cross the Türkiye-Greece border
Ethical research with displaced communities carries a dual responsibility: first and foremost towards the participants, but also towards the researchers themselves as human beings navigating stories of suffering. On the participant side, the Ruptured Atlas project embraced an obligation not just to “do no harm” but to actively do some good for the community. Contemporary ethical frameworks argue that mere harm avoidance is an insufficient standard when working with marginalised groups; instead, researchers should “move beyond harm minimization” and design projects that bring about reciprocal benefits for those being studied[i]. In other words, participants should not be treated as mere data sources for someone else’s thesis – they should gain something tangible or intangible from the process, be it a sense of empowerment, a supportive platform to share their story, new skills, or direct improvements in their situation. We took this sentiment to heart by aiming to preserve Yazidi cultural heritage and influence policy, but more importantly, by skilling up Yazidis by providing members of the community with a series of training workshops on creative mapping as tools for advocacy.
By co-creating a digital archive of Yazidi lived experiences, the project returns a form of ownership and historical record to the community. It is an attempt at reciprocity: the research output is also an input into community memory and advocacy, hopefully benefiting participants and their families. Moreover, being heard and having one’s history validated can be a meaningful psychological benefit. Yet, we must remain cautious about overclaiming the benefits or venturing into the territory of saviourism. True reciprocity means continually consulting participants about their needs and adjusting the project to meet them where possible, rather than assuming what is best for them. It also means accountability – if participants entrust researchers with deeply personal material, the researchers have a duty to handle it with utmost care (e.g. protecting privacy when requested, conveying stories respectfully, and following up on any concerns participants raise). In research with displaced communities, respect for persons entails not only securing informed consent at the outset but maintaining a relationship of respect throughout the project lifecycle. This can be challenging in fluid, conflict-affected settings, but it is essential to treat participants as partners with agency, not as vulnerable victims to be pitied or fixed.
While ethical research prioritises participant care, the emotional toll on researchers working with testimonies of genocide and displacement is often overlooked. Vicarious trauma—the secondary trauma experienced by those exposed to others’ suffering—is a real risk for researchers engaging deeply with survivors’ narratives. Ethical research must establish protective mechanisms, such as debriefing sessions and peer support networks, to safeguard researchers’ well-being. This involves recognising one’s emotional limits and triggers: for instance, a researcher might experience secondary trauma or compassion fatigue after prolonged engagement with harrowing testimonies. In the rush to centre participants’ needs (rightly so), investigators sometimes forget that they, too, are human and can be deeply affected by the stories they carry. During our project, we attempted to maintain boundaries (while remaining present on digital platforms, which is incredibly difficult) and integrated collective reflection with critical strategies that perhaps could have been managed better. The project emphasised the importance of recognising researchers' emotional limits while fostering a culture of care within the research team as a whole (in Iraq and the UK). Ethical research is not just about responsibility to participants but also to ourselves and our communities.
A trauma-informed approach thus extends to the research team as well, encouraging practices like peer debriefings, counselling support, or trauma training to help researchers cope and respond appropriately[ii]. Furthermore, reflexivity – a constant turning inward to examine one’s biases, reactions, and positional power – is a cornerstone of ethical practice. Researchers must ask themselves difficult questions: Why am I doing this work? How are my own identities and assumptions influencing the process? Am I truly listening to participants, or am I cherry-picking narratives that fit my hypothesis? Engaging in such self-scrutiny is not a purely introspective exercise; it has direct ethical implications. It keeps the researcher alert to power imbalances and attuned to participants’ cues, and it guards against the subtle ways ego or outside pressure can derail an ethical stance. After all, those people are not just story subjects – they are human beings, and not just collections of stories. The researchers, too, are more than data-gathering instruments; acknowledging their own humanity (with its vulnerabilities and emotions) can enhance the ethical conduct of the research, fostering empathy and humility. In this Ruptured Atlas project, this likely meant that the team had to pace the research thoughtfully, build in support mechanisms, and be willing to adapt the methods we used if something was not working or was causing distress, although we would have liked to do more towards protecting researchers. Ethical responsibility is a two-way street: caring for participants and caring for ourselves, to sustain a respectful and sensitive inquiry.
[i] Mackenzie, Catriona, Christopher McDowell, and Eileen Pittaway. ‘Beyond “Do No Harm”, p.300.
[ii] Gordon, Eleanor. ‘The Researcher and the Researched: Navigating the Challenges of Research in Conflict-Affected Environments’. International Studies Review 23, no. 1 (4 March 2021): 59–88. https://doi.org/10.1093/isr/viaa009.
