This post is inspired by a research paper whose title many within academia may well have voiced themselves, ‘Dear Reviewer 2: Go F’ Yourself‘.
The author states ‘The objective of this study was to empirically test the wide belief that Reviewer #2 is a uniquely poor reviewer’. Concluding ‘Reviewer #2 is not the problem. Reviewer #3 is. In fact, he is such a bad actor that he even gets the unwitting Reviewer #2 blamed for his bad behavior.'(Peterson,2020)
Peer review is the accepted academic foundation to the development, gatekeeping and dissemination of research, while underpinning professional hierarchies within academia. However, research has called this process into question, identifying different outcomes based on gender and nationality. Research by Murray et al (2018) on submissions to a biosciences journal found
‘…… a homophilic interaction between the demographics of the gatekeepers and authors in determining the outcome of peer review; that is, gatekeepers favor manuscripts from authors of the same gender and from the same country. The acceptance rate for manuscripts with male last authors was significantly higher than for female last authors, and this gender inequity was greatest when the team of reviewers was all male; mixed-gender gatekeeper teams lead to more equitable peer review outcomes.’
Now it could be suggested peer reviewed Social Work journals operate from a different ideological and philosophical perspective to biosciences, however, my subjective experience over the past 14 years as an academic suggests to me social work might not be quite so different. On reviewing my publications I have been astonished to find that the majority of my successful submissions have been to journals edited by females, whilst the majority of unsuccessful submissions have been to journals edited by males. In addition I have also realised the female edited journals have a lower metric rating, compared to the male edited journals.
Why I wonder? The answer is likely to be multiple and complex, although hierarchies in power at both an individual and subject/content level would have a key role I believe. (Maybe that’s the subject of another blog or even a symposium?)
A recent experience of a ‘reviewer 3’s’ generally negative comments on a submission prompted me to think more deeply about the role of peer reviewed journals as ‘gatekeepers’ of knowledge distribution, and how this might inform the evidence base of social work. Commonly framed within the profession as ‘evidence based practice ‘ or ‘evidence informed practice’.
From a philosophical perspective Evidence Based/Informed Practice (EBIP) appears to operate on modernist foundations. For example seeking to adhere to methodological and analytic standards of rigour, which demonstrate the objectivity and reliability of a scientific approach, because this will provide clarity in establishing the ‘right’ evidence is combined to create systematic and cohesive frameworks of knowledge. The belief that by adopting this approach the ‘right’ research and knowledge is published is alluring, and indeed may lead practitioners into a false sense of security when making decisions based on EBIP.
However, Postmodernist frameworks are of benefit here to thinking about the multiple discourses at play in social work practices, and understandings the dynamics between them, particularly concerning power.
Academia is an interesting example of this if we consider the suggested positional power of some academics. Reid and Curry (2019) suggest such power is insidious, and produces barriers for some scholars throughout their entire careers, disproportionately affecting women and people from black and minority ethnic groups. This template dictates certain research agendas, epistemologies, and methods as legitimate while discarding or marginalizing those that do not fit neatly within this framework. Reid and Curry argue In essence there is an acceptance of
‘white male subjectivity as the norm (thus ‘objective’), rendering racialized (nonwhite) and genderized (nonmale) subjectivity as the ‘other,’ as lacking credibility.” Scholars who focus on critical theory, race, gender, ethnicity, sexuality and identities, qualitative methods and the like are marginalized because their work is supposedly not “objective” science.’
Add to this a cloak of anonymity, and a lack of transparency and accountability, there is very little discriminated groups can do to challenge such academic orthodoxy.
Peshkin (1988) provides an interesting perspective which extends, and troubles, the notion of objectivity by suggesting the ‘taboo’ of subjectivity stems from a misunderstanding of its potential role in EBIP. It is our own subjective involvement in practice—not the precise replication of the event—which can provide strong theoretical insight. However, we are somewhat conditioned as practitioners and academics to see subjectivity as a ‘contaminant’. Yet, that contaminant is always present, one can never get away from one self. As Alan Peshkin eloquently reminds us
“Whatever the substance of one’s persuasions at a given point, one’s subjectivity is like a garment that cannot be removed. It is insistently present in both the research and non-research aspects of our life. … our subjectivity lies inert, unexamined when it counts ….. ” (Peshkin 1988, p.17)
The key point here is that subjectivity cannot be removed. It shapes and mediates our thinking and action in a whole range of ways. Therefore, it needs to be valued understood and utilised . Instead of trying to remove the garment and declare ourselves clean of subjectivity, it is important to acknowledge it, and draw upon it to deepen our analysis. However, this is unlikely to happen if the ‘gatekeepers’ decide not to open the gates to their kingdom of knowledge, unless of course we can find another way in.
There is also an issue, I believe, in respect of practitioners opportunities to engage in research, and attain publication of their work, especially given the workforce is predominantly female (approx 85%). If there is gender bias in favour of males, specifically white males, this has major implication in who creates the evidence base for social work practice, and what does his mean for practitioners and service provision?
What do you think?