Science, culture, complexity

Tag: prestige journals

  • What is ONOS’s (real) problem?

    The Indian government set the country’s research community aflutter when it announced the launch of a long-awaited plan to improve research access without announcing many of its salient details as well.

    On November 25, the Ministry of Education published a press release saying the Union Cabinet had approved the plan — called ‘One Nation, One Subscription’ (ONOS) — at a total value of Rs 6,000 crore over three years. This release was so low on details as to be deeply polarising in the public sphere. In fact, its reception was only saved by its offer to bring access to prohibitively expensive research journals to students at poorly funded public colleges and universities. As speculation and debate swelled to fill the information gap, many experts unsurprisingly concluded the government shouldn’t have adopted ONOS in its current form. Their arguments were that it spent too much for too little gain, didn’t make room for open-access (OA) publishing, and had no arrangements to support domestic publishers of scholarly journals.

    But on December 11, after criticism in the press, the government organised a press conference with officials of the Department of Science & Technology, Department of Higher Education, and the office of the Principal Scientific Advisor, and they revealed many more details about ONOS — often enough to allay suspicions that ONOS was an attempt by the government to take the easiest way out of a difficult problem. The officials even acknowledged the importance of supporting domestic publishers of scholarly journals (which are likely to be more mindful of local contexts of research), rooted for changes in the way professional scholars are evaluated for promotions (to focus less on journal names and more on the quality of work), and called ONOS part of a plan to “bring about OA transformation”.

    However, after the press conference, the discussions in many OA communities (of which I am part) still indicated a significant degree of dissatisfaction. Chief among critics’ complaints was that the government’s decision to set aside Rs 150 crore per year for researchers publishing in ‘gold’ OA journals (where the publisher charges researchers to publish a paper rather than a reader to read it) was a waste. They were also unhappy about the authors of papers having to sign their copyrights over to the publishers and about the ‘lost opportunity’ to use the Rs 6,000 crore to make the ‘green’ OA publishing model (whereby researchers self-archive copies of their papers that can be availed freely) a national priority.

    Between November 25 and December 11, an important source of disgruntlement with ONOS was the scheme amounted to paying research journals a sum so researchers in the country could access their output for free, without addressing any of the issues associated with the country’s research publishing and evaluation culture. This version of ONOS effectively maintained the status quo at a small discount. But the details revealed on December 11 refocused what criticism still remained to a different form — and one that Remya Haridasan, a scientist at the PSA’s office and one of the officials present at the press conference, inadvertently captured. She said, “ONOS is not a value judgment of the subscription-based model of knowledge dissemination but an adoption of the most practical India-specific solution until a sustainable OA model is achieved globally.”

    In this paradigm, the government is simply responding to what the country’s scientists are asking for while keeping the door open to change whereas critics want the government to (help) change what it is that scientists want altogether. Put another way, the conflict now is between what a country can do in the face of a world-order that is still far from assuming a more ideal state versus what a country ought to do.

    ONOS was necessitated by subscription-based journals charging higher and higher subscription fees, over time guzzling an increasingly non-trivial fraction of the research expenditures of various countries. Yet many scientists wished to keep publishing in these journals because the world’s oldest journals belong to this group and have carefully cultivated a great reputation for themselves. A paper published in their pages ensures it is read by all scientists in that field. In fact, because these journals have also been highly picky about what they publish and there is a global competition to be featured in their pages, to be published with them has itself become a mark of success. The journals’ publishers took advantage of their products’ desirability to increase subscription fees further.

    To break the stranglehold of subscription-based journals, then, is also to break the research publishing culture wherein publishing in XYZ journals is the crowning aspiration. And this is what those who remain critical of ONOS are fighting for, and probably expected ONOS would do as well. Their contention is that rather than passively responding to whatever the country’s research community wants, the government should actively reshape what the community wants. For example, it could ensure a scientist’s career prospects in academia are not affected by the name of the journals in which they publish and only by the quality of their work. Doing so would nudge the community to favour green OA, or that’s the expectation, and move away from ‘prestige’ journals. This is the context in which the quality and resourcefulness of homegrown journals would matter as well.

    In many ways, this line of inquiry constitutes the essential criticism of ONOS, the fundamental substrate upon which more material concerns — like how its allocation will change and how it will prevent paying for already freely-available papers — stand. If we go by the press conference alone, the government has staved this criticism off for now by moving its object into the future. The “OA transformation” is the ultimate outcome one must ensure the government’s plan for ONOS achieves, otherwise what the country is prepared to do will allow subscription-based journals to flourish at the expense of our academic publishing culture.

  • The matter of a journal’s reputation

    Apparently (and surprisingly) The Telegraph didn’t allow Dinesh Thakur to respond to an article by Biocon employee Sundar Ramanan, in which Ramanan deems Thakur’s article about the claims to efficacy of the Biocon drug Itolizumab not being backed by enough data to have received the DCGI’s approval to be inaccurate. Even notwithstanding The Telegraph‘s policy on how rebuttals are handled (I have no idea what it is), Ramanan – as a proxy for his employer – has everything to gain by defending Itolizumab’s approval and Thakur, nothing. This fact alone means Thakur should have been allowed to respond. As it stands, the issue has been reduced to a he-said-she-said event and I doubt that in reality it is. Thakur has since published his response at Newslaundry.

    I’m no expert but there are many signs of whataboutery in Ramanan’s article. As Thakur writes, there’s also the matter of the DCGI waiving phase III clinical trials for Itolizumab, which can only be done if phase II trials were great – and this they’re unlikely to have been because of the ludicrous cohort size of 30 people. Kiran Mazumdar-Shaw and Seema Ahuja, the former the MD of and the latter a PR person affiliated with Biocon, have also resorted to ad hominem arguments on Twitter against Itolizumab’s critics, on more than one occasion have construed complaints about the drug approval process as expressions of anti-India sentiments, and have more recently begun to advance company-sponsored ‘expert opinions’ as “peer-reviewed” evidence of Itolizumab’s efficacy.

    Even without presuming to know who’s ultimately right here, Mazumdar-Shaw and Ahuja don’t sound like the good guys, especially since their fiercest critics I’ve spotted thus far on Twitter are a bunch of highly qualified public health experts and medical researchers. Accusing them of ‘besmirching India’ inspires anything but confidence in Itolizumab’s phase II trial results.

    It’s in this context that I want to draw attention to one particular word in Ramanan’s article in The Telegraph that I believe signals the ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours’ relationship between many scientific journals and the accumulation of knowledge as a means to power – and in my view is a further sign that something’s rotten in the state of Denmark. Ramanan writes (underline added):

    Itolizumab was first approved by the Drugs Controller General of India for the treatment of patients with active moderate to severe chronic plaque Psoriasis in 2013 based on “double-blind, randomized, placebo-controlled, Phase III study”. The safety and efficacy of the drug was published in globally reputed, peer-reviewed journals and in proceedings (Journal of the American Academy of Dermatology, and the 6th annual European Antibody Congress, respectively).

    What does a journal’s reputation have to do with anything? The reason I keep repeating this point is not because you don’t get it – I’m sure you do; I do it to remind myself, and everyone else who may need to be reminded, of the different contexts in which the same issue repeatedly manifests. Invoking reputation, in this instance, smells of an argument grounded in authority instead of in evidence. Then again, this is a tautological statement considering Biocon issued a press release before the published results – preprint or post-print – were available (they still aren’t), but let’s bear on in an attempt to make sense of reputation itself.

    The matter of a journal’s reputation, whether local or global, is grating because the journals for whom this attribute is germane have acquired it by publishing certain kinds of papers over others – papers that tend to describe positive results, sensational results, and by virtue of their reader-pays business model, results that are of greater interest to those likely to want to pay to access them. These details are important because it’s important to ask what ‘reputation’ means, and based on that we can then understand some of the choices of people for whom this ‘reputation’ matters.

    Reputation is the outcome of gatekeeping, of deeming some papers as being worthy of publication according to metrics that have less to do with the contents of the paper* and more with the journal’s desirability and profitability. As Björn Brembs wrote in 2010:

    It doesn’t matter where something is published – what matters is what is being published. Given the obscene subscription rates some of these journals charge, if anything, they should be held to a higher standard and their ‘reputation’ (i.e., their justification for charging these outrageous subscription fees!) being constantly questioned, rather than this unquestioning dogma that anything published there must be relevant, because it was published there.

    However, by breaking into an élite club by publishing a paper in a particular journal, the reputation starts to matter to the scientist as well, and becomes synonymous with the scientist’s own aspirations of quality, rigour and academic power (look out for proclamations like “I have published 25 papers in journal X, which has an impact factor of 43″). This way, over time, the scientific literature becomes increasingly skewed in favour of some kinds of papers over others – especially of the positive, sensational variety – and leads to a vicious cycle.

    The pressure in academia to ‘publish or perish’ also forces scientists to shoehorn themselves tighter into the journals’ definition of what a ‘good’ paper is, more so if publishing in some journals has seemingly become associated with increasing one’s likelihood of winning ‘reputed’ awards. As such, reputation is neither accidental nor innocent. From the point of view of the science that fills scientific journals, reputation is an arbitrary gatekeeper designed to disqualify an observer from calling the journal’s contents into question – which I’m sure you’ll understand is essentially antiscientific.

    Ramanan’s appeal to the reputation of the journal that published the results of the tests of Itolizumab’s efficacy against cytokine release syndrome (CRS) in psoriasis patients is, in similar vein, an appeal to an entity that has nothing to do either with the study itself or the matter at hand. As Dr Jammi Nagaraj Rao wrote for The Wire Science, there’s no reason for us to believe knowing how Itolizumab works against CRS will help us understand how it will work against CRS in COVID-19 patients considering we’re not entirely sure how CRS plays out in COVID-19 patients – or if Itolizumab’s molecular mechanism of action can be directly translated to a statement of efficacy against a new disease.

    In effect, the invitation to defer to a journal’s reputation is akin to an invitation to hide behind a cloak of superiority that would render scrutiny irrelevant. But that Ramanan used this word in this particular context is secondary**; the primary issue is that journals that pride such arbitrarily defined attributes as ‘reputation’ and ‘prestige’ also offer them as a defence against demands for transparency and access. Instead, why not let the contents of the paper speak up for themselves? Biocon should publish the paper pertaining to its controversial phase II trial of Itolizumab in COVID-19 patients and the DCGI should publicise the inner workings of its approval process asap. As they say: show us (the results), don’t tell us (the statement).

    Beyond determining if the paper is legitimate, has sound science and is free of mistakes, malpractice or fraud.

    ** There are also other words Ramanan uses to subtly delegitimise Thakur’s article – calling it an “opinion article” and presuming to “correct” Thakur’s arguments that constitute a “disservice to the public”.

  • The cycle

    Is it just me or does everyone see a self-fulfilling prophecy here?

    For a long time, and assisted ably by the ‘publish or perish’ paradigm, researchers sought to have their papers published in high-impact-factor journals – a.k.a. prestige journals – like Nature.

    Such journals in turn, assisted ably by parasitic strategies, made these papers highly visible to other researchers around the world and, by virtue of being high-IF journals, tainted the results in the papers with a measure of prestige, ergo importance.

    Evaluations and awards committees in turn were highly aware of these papers over others and picked their authors for rewards over others, further amplifying their work, increasing the opportunity cost incurred by the researchers who lose out, and increasing the prestige attached to the high-IF journals.

    Run this cycle a few million times and you end up with the impression that there’s something journals like Nature get right – when in fact it’s just mostly a bunch of business practices to ensure they remain profitable.