Adrian Barnett, Queensland University of Technology
The winter months can get cold in Belfast, the largest city in Northern Ireland where the Titanic was designed, built and launched in the early 1900s.
Not seriously cold of course, never sub-zero depths of cold that were the undoing of the Titanic on its maiden voyage, but a ‘nippy’ cold… a cold that comes with biting winds and rain that means only the bravest of souls venture outside in the winter months without the insurance policy of a good coat.
It’s a type of cold that resulted in it being a big outlier for winter deaths in our analysis of multiple cities across the world, with a death rate that was much higher than cities with a similar climate such as Gothenburg.
So it was with some delight that my mum, a proud Belfast girl, recently told me she was getting a new boiler installed courtesy of the city’s council – a small win that means this winter should be warmer than the last one.
“Wow, how did that happen?” I asked, as she shared the good news in one of our regular calls.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but it’s nice to be getting something for a change”.
Thinking about how my parents were getting a free boiler, I wondered if our analysis of winter deaths had played a part.
I remember hearing that our results caused some concern in Northern Ireland and led to government reports that examined the issue. Without knowing for certain, it seems that these investigations led to policies to improve housing in Northern Ireland, and a new boiler for my folks.
These are the happy moments that highlight how your research can make a positive difference. We did the work, published it, it was read, and then acted on, in a long chain of events that took many years.
How crucial was the journal?
The publication in the Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health was a vital link in the chain, as having a peer reviewed and easily accessible version of our work was necessary for its uptake.
But would the paper have had the same impact if it was published in another journal? I think it would.
A “better” journal might have got more media attention, and our findings might have been picked up faster by policy makers. Conversely a “lesser” journal may have slowed its uptake, although it would still be findable by anyone doing a thorough review.
Where versus What
The journal is important, but it is a means to an end rather than the end itself. Alas for many researchers the journal is now the end game, with an enormous focus on “where” to publish rather than “what”, with the “where” meaning the highest journal impact factor.
This mania for impact factors is driven by fellowship and hiring committees who often rely on the journal impact factor as a heuristic of research quality. These committees use shortcuts because researchers are now publishing so much that there’s no time to read every candidate’s work. Hence the “where” stands in for the “what”.
But policy makers care about the “what”. For example, in our recent study of journal impact factors a researcher commented that policy makers “Don’t care about journal impact factor, they only want you to give them a half-page summary.” For real impact, researchers should publish where their target audience is most likely to read it.
Goodbye to some of that
I am now so disillusioned with the research world’s focus on journal prestige that I recently removed all the journal names from my CV. I want any interest in my work to be based on the paper’s title, not any perceived entitlement from the “top” journals.
I’ve been called a hypocrite for publishing this change in Nature, which is a key target for “where” papers. But where better to reach those who are focused on the “where”?
Removing journal titles from publication lists is a simple step that could be used in all forms of research assessment.
Funders and universities could ask for CVs without journal titles in their fellowship and job applications. A determined committee member could still find the impact factors, but it should eventually sink-in that it is what people have achieved that matters.
Google Scholar could remove journal titles from users’ profiles. All papers on Scholar are hyperlinked, so readers don’t need to know the journal if they want to read it. Academia is clinging to an antiquated and fiddly system of writing out the full reference with the journal title, volume, issue, etc.
That warm feeling
I enjoyed explaining to my parents how my research potentially helped them get a new boiler, especially as it’s usually hard to explain what I do.
I didn’t get into research for personal benefit. Like most researchers I started as idealistic about how data and evidence can improve the world. Unfortunately, many researchers have become sidetracked by self-serving competitions. They need to remember why they started their career and forget the journal rankings that they were happily ignorant of when their career began.
Adrian Barnett is a statistician at Queensland University of Technology.