I took my daughters round the new Darwin Centre at the Natural History Museum last year. Because we happen to be friends, I managed to persuade the incomparable Karen James, of The Beagle Project fame, to show us behind the scenes.
After that I took the girls into the ‘Cocoon‘, a huge butterfly egg-type structure that contains 20 million or more specimens, with superbly-done exhibits and displays. The Cocoon lets visitors see into the workings of the Museum; quite literally, because one side of the egg cuts away into the research labs (where Karen works). As we walked around we came across a video display of Karen herself, talking about the process of publishing science, how you write and revise a manuscript and send it off to the dreaded ‘peer review’.
Karen did a splendid job explaining the process: how other scientists in your field look at your work and—in an ideal world—check that you’ve done the work right and that you’ve cited all the relevant literature; that the manuscript is sound. She also conveyed, far too convincingly, the heartbreak of having a treasured manuscript rejected!
The process of science for the last three hundred and more years is based on peer review. Other scientists check your work and say yup, that looks OK or no, you need to do this other experiment or read these papers. Unfortunately some reviewers (and I stress, these people are peers, that is they are your equals; not some shadowy cabal curating or judging Science from on high) do seem to hold personal grudges, or have strange agendas, or simply not be very good. (And yes, sometimes your own work is pants and should be rejected. Deal with it.)
This leads to people making wide-ranging and inflammatory statements such as “peer review is broken.” Some of them even write letters about it (as reported by the Beeb, six months later). This leads to calls for making the peer review process ‘open‘; i.e. publishing the correspondence between the reviewers and the editors, and maybe even removing the anonymity part.
We’ve been here before (haven’t we always?):
All editors have seen curt, abusive, destructive reviews and assumed that the reviewer would not have written in that way if he or she were identifiable. Openness also links accountability with credit. One important defect of closed review is that reviewers don’t receive academic credit. Finally, openness should eliminate some of the worst abuses of peer review, where reviewersunder the cloak of anonymitysteal ideas or procrastinate
BMJ, 1999
but it’s not clear to me, and indeed the results of those BMJ studies tend to bear me out, whether this is really a problem, or whether the perception is far worse than the reality. And I’ve had a paper that took nearly two years to get published.
I remain to be convinced that peer review is broken. The idea of some sort of clique quashing acceptance of manuscripts isn’t that far-fetched, pace Philip Campbell. Strong editors will get round it, but in some fields it’s quite possible for one or two individuals to make it really difficult to get anything published. This tends to be self-limiting though: in the extreme case, the field simply dies. In my experience of this, the community know who those people were, so open peer review probably wouldn’t improve matters. Double-blind will not work because it’s going to be reasonably trivial to figure out is the author. People will still sit on manuscripts, and we already know who does this when it happens.
Making the reviewers’ comments, signed or not, public might not ‘improve’ peer review: however I do believe it has value. There is virtually no training in reviewing papers, and if young post-docs and grad students could see a wide range of reviews of many different papers, surely that can only improve their reviewing skills? Maybe it would even serve to make the first submission better if nascent authors were to look at reviews in their field, and discover the common mistakes?
Having said that, I am keen to see greater accountability. On a personal level, I wouldn’t write anything I wouldn’t put my name next to, and I don’t actually see why peer review should be any different. At f1000, for example, we already put our Faculty Members’ names on their evaluations, and we call this ‘post-publication peer review’. (Our motives are slightly different of course: we’re saying that you should take notice because of who’s writing them.)

The EMBO Journal has been experimenting with publishing reviews of accepted manuscripts for a year now. I was amused to find that when I clicked on one of the reviews at random, it was a paper about my old friend talin. And it’s from Mark Ginsberg and Iain Campbell, FRS, with both of whom have I coauthored papers.
Small world.
On the run-29Jan10
Posted by rpg on 29 January, 2010
Vitek quotes a Polish proverb,
In that vein, take a look at this graph (don’t look too closely; it’s deliberately a tiny bit obscure):
What I’ve been doing this week is mostly hacking away in Perl at some of the information in our database. As you may know, each evaluation in f1000 has a score associated with it, based on the rating given an article by Faculty Members. We’ve redone the scoring and I’ve worked out a way of combining those scores, or ‘article factors’ as we’ve taken to calling them, for each journal that is represented at f1000. This gives us a ‘journal factor’, ffJ. It’s our answer to the journal Impact Factor, in fact; and the graph above is the top 250 journals according to our ratings (in blue) with the appropriate Impact Factor in red.
You’ll notice right away that there isn’t a one-to-one correlation, and of course we’d expect that (the Impact Factor has serious problems, which I’ve talked about previously). I’m currently analysing our data a bit more deeply, and I’ll be writing a paper with that analysis, as well as talking about it at the March ACS conference in San Francisco.
Last Friday evening I went down the Driver with a couple of the dev team and a bunch of people from places as varied as BioMed Central, Nature Publishing Group, Mendeley and Mekentosj. We talked about what we’re variously calling cross- or federate-commenting. On the whole we’ve decided it’s a good idea, and we simply have to figure out how to do it. What this implies of course is that we’re actually going to allow user comments at f1000—and indeed that’s the plan. I’m looking forward to rolling out this functionality to you, not least because when people want to raise questions about articles evaluated on f1000, they’ll be able to.
While we’re on the mythical new site, we asked another web designer what they could come up with for us. And for the first time, all of us who saw the design liked it. So hopefully we’ll be able to get that implemented real soon now and I’ll be able to start showing you what you’re going to get, you lucky people. (Rumours that someone said “It looks like a proper website!” are completely unfounded.)
Interesting reviews
A couple of things you may have missed.
First, the (possible) mechanism behind photophobia in migraines. Turns out that people who are functionally blind, but sensitive to circadian input and pupillary light reflexes are susceptible to photophobia. Work in rats published in Nature Neuroscience implicates a (previously uncharacterized) multisynaptic or heavily networked retinal path.
In Biology, the problem of de novo assembly of DNA sequence reads into sensible contigs from massively parallel sequencing technologies has been addressed. This, if it works, would bring exciting concepts such as personal genomics that little bit closer. The paper is in Genome Research (subscription required) and you can read the evaluation for free.
And finally
Faculty of 1000 is big in Italy—or at least on Facebook. My post on the recycling of integrins drew an excited response from one Grazia Tamma, who was then mocked mercilessly by her brother!
Hang in there, Grazia; science is great and the cytoskeleton rocks.
Posted in Friday afternoon, Indicators, Metrics | Tagged: comment, cytoskeleton, ffJ, impact factor, Website | 4 Comments »