O wow and time to welcome those May flowers.
I’m Scott Savoy at the Sterling Creations desk and pleased to share our president’s editorial for this week.
Today, Donna J. Jodhan zooms in on the real reasons for surveys.
Donna wants to hear from you so send along your feedback to her at donnajodhan@sterlingcreations.ca.
Enjoy your weekend.
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What Are The Real Reasons For Surveys
By Donna J. Jodhan
Surveys are everywhere.
After you buy a product, you’re asked to “rate your experience.”
After a hospital visit, a university class, a government appointment — there it is again. Please complete this short survey. It won’t take more than five minutes. Your feedback is valuable to us.
And yes, on the surface, surveys serve a reasonable purpose. Companies, organizations, universities, and government departments use them to measure performance, assess satisfaction, and identify areas for improvement. Data helps refine services. Metrics influence funding. Trends shape strategy.
Size doesn’t matter. A small nonprofit and a multinational corporation both rely on surveys to signal accountability and progress.
But that is the official story.
The deeper question remains: what are the real reasons for surveys?
At their best, surveys are tools of listening. At their worst, they are tools of extraction.
There is a crucial difference between asking for feedback and harvesting unpaid expertise.
Satisfaction surveys — “How did we do?” — are transactional. They evaluate an interaction. You bought something. You used a service. You respond.
But another category of survey exists, one less discussed and far more complicated.
These are the surveys that seek lived experience. They ask for detailed insight into challenges, adaptations, strategies, skills, emotional labor, and systemic barriers. They request personal narratives. They probe for solutions.
And increasingly, they target marginalized communities — particularly persons with disabilities.
The pattern is familiar. An organization claims to be “improving accessibility.” A university wants to “enhance inclusion.” A corporation seeks to “strengthen disability engagement strategy.” A government department needs to “inform policy development.”
So they circulate a survey.
They ask individuals with disabilities to share unique knowledge, skills, professional expertise, and lived experience — often in great depth. They ask what works. What doesn’t. What barriers exist. What solutions could be implemented. How systems could be redesigned.
They gather highly specialized insight that consultants would ordinarily be paid significant fees to provide.
And then they do not pay.
Instead, respondents are told their participation is an obligation. “Help others.” “Be part of the change.” “Your voice matters.” The emotional framing shifts from collaboration to duty.
This is where the real reason for many surveys becomes uncomfortable.
Surveys are cost-effective data collection mechanisms. They allow institutions to acquire large volumes of targeted, experience-based knowledge without compensation structures, contracts, or accountability. They can claim engagement without redistributing resources. They can signal inclusion without investing in it.
Participation becomes framed as civic responsibility, community loyalty, or moral contribution — especially for those who already carry disproportionate burdens.
For persons with disabilities, this dynamic is particularly troubling. Lived experience is not casual commentary. It is expertise forged through navigating inaccessible systems, advocating for accommodations, developing adaptive strategies, and often confronting structural discrimination.
That knowledge has value.
When institutions repeatedly request it without pay, they are not simply collecting feedback. They are extracting labor.
The guilt narrative compounds the issue. Individuals are told that by declining to participate, they are harming progress. That future accessibility depends on their unpaid contribution. That others will benefit if they comply.
Yet meaningful inclusion requires more than a survey link.
It requires compensation.
It requires shared decision-making power.
It requires transparency about how data will be used.
It requires visible outcomes.
Too often, surveys function as symbolic gestures — performative acts that demonstrate that an organization “asked.” Whether they listened is harder to determine.
Of course, not all surveys are exploitative. Many are necessary. Evaluation is essential. Public institutions must gather input. Businesses should measure satisfaction. Universities should assess student experience.
But the ethics shift when surveys move from measuring service quality to extracting specialized expertise.
If a survey is gathering insights equivalent to consulting work, then respondents should be compensated accordingly. If it informs strategic planning or policy reform, participants should see the results. If it claims to value lived experience, that value should be reflected materially.
Otherwise, surveys risk becoming instruments of asymmetrical power: institutions gain knowledge; individuals give time, emotional energy, and expertise — often without return.
The real reason for surveys, then, depends on who benefits.
Are they tools of improvement — or tools of efficiency?
Are they vehicles for shared progress — or mechanisms for unpaid knowledge mining?
Are they acts of listening — or acts of optics?
If organizations genuinely believe that voices matter, they must treat those voices as assets, not obligations.
Because inclusion is not a checkbox.
It is not a link at the bottom of an email.
And it is certainly not free.
I’d like to leave you with this for your consideration.
A diverse group of people with disabilities gathered around a large digital screen, engaged and focused. On the screen appears the question: “Is this survey measuring quality of service or extracting specialized experience?” The group appears thoughtful, as if collectively analyzing the intent behind the survey.
Image = A 3D illustration of a white checklist sheet with three green checkmark icons beside gray text lines, resting on a pink clipboard with a yellow pencil leaning against it, all set against a soft pink background with a subtle shadow beneath the floating objects.
To learn more about me as an award winning sight loss coach and advocate visit www.donnajodhan.com