GG has complained about the letter journals like Science and Nature, sometimes for things they do (like take real articles and smash them down into an extended abstract disguised as an article with a real article lurking in the supplementary information) and sometimes for how they are used (impact factors for salary bonuses or promotion). There is yet another wrinkle out there that had escaped his notice, namely a chilling of communication at meetings.
A piece in The Open Notebook (seen via Retraction Watch) discusses how scientists clam up at meetings and even threaten to blacklist reporters who, um, report on materials presented at meetings journalists are encouraged to attend. Why? Because they fear that the prestige tabloids will reject their work as already published if this work shows up in a newspaper somewhere. And given the rather arcane rules Science and Nature put out (you can only clarify what you said in public, you can’t seek out news coverage, etc.) it is easy to feel like you had better discourage coverage if you have designs on those journals.
This is awful on so many levels. Read More…
There is a tremendous tension now in science that might not be terribly obvious to those outside the field. “Publish or perish” is reaching into corners that never should have seen such pressure even as it seems more daunting in places where it was always important, and the response of the community has bifurcated into two misguided directions.
On the one hand, there are the predatory journals that publish anything that accompanies a check. While many seem to operate on deception, using names that closely parallel established peer-review journals, others are pretty clearly their own thing. The amazing insight, as presented in a New York Times piece, is that many scientists who publish in these journals are well aware that they are, in essence, true vanity publishers. Worse, such publications are apparently aiding many in advancing their careers. The existence of many of these journals is not even regarded as a negative by some who advocate for review-free publication of anything anybody wants to call science; the absence of peer-review is a feature, not a bug.
On the other hand there is the quantification of prestige that many want to apply to scientific publications. The worst application is, without doubt, the financial reward for merely publishing in a journal with a high impact factor. Read More…
Certain knee-jerk phrases and assumptions just kind of get GG all grumpied-up. The two from today? “Nevadaplano” and “Laramide flat slab”.
Now GG is not in possession of God’s plan for the universe or operating a time machine with X-ray vision into the earth. In fact, those who are explicitly investigating such concepts are not the targets of this venom today. It is those who use these terms–or, probably more properly, use these memes–that drive GG to distraction.
Why? When Peter Bird spoke of a flat slab in his 1988 paper, it was crystal clear what he meant. There was no real ambiguity. His flat slab had a real purpose, it was a firm creation that could be encountered face-to-face (after a fashion) and be dealt with. If you spoke of Bird’s flat slab, you knew why it was there, how it hooked into everything, what it was and was not supposed to do. It was something you could–and many did–disprove. It was an honest to goodness hypothesis.
But the flat slab of the meeting talks is a nebulous invention designed to deflect attention. “The Laramide flat slab” could be almost anywhere in the western U.S. It could start back at 90 Ma. It might be lurking today under Mississippi or the Great Lakes or New Jersey [all such suggestions are indeed out there]–or under your bed calling you on the phone! [OK, that one isn’t in the literature]. It is, essentially, an invitation to suspend critical thought. The flat slab can move mantle lithosphere, hydrate crust hither and yon, it can depress the crust, or raise the crust, stop volcanoes or start them. It is all-powerful. Need something to happen? Invoke the flat slab and criticism is silenced.
The other boogeyman is of a different stripe. The “Nevadaplano” is one of those portmanteaus so easily rolled off the tongue that it was, from the moment of conception, a favorite in oral presentation. It was just too fun a phrase to pass up. While it lacks the powers of the flat slab, it, like many superheroes, has its own abilities: it flickers in existence between eastern Nevada, western Utah, eastern California and southern Arizona, appearing where needed just in the nick of time–whether that time be in the mists of the Cretaceous or the dying days of the Oligocene. Its partial namesake, the Altiplano, is known for being flat, a product of internal drainage, yet many (most?) incarnations of the Nevadaplano are externally drained. Nearly all the times speakers call upon the spirit of Nevadaplano, they really have no real need of it. They just need a highland in the right place at the right time–and there is good evidence for many of these highlands. They just don’t look or behave like the image projected by the Nevadaplano, and one speaker’s Nevadaplano would spit on another speaker’s. You really do wish that the spirit of Nevadaplano would object and not show its face in such instances.
Science is supposed to be a precise business. When we speak of the San Andreas Fault, the Navajo Sandstone or the Channeled Scablands, these are things that are well defined even if there are some blurry edges somewhere. Even multifaceted terms like “lithosphere” rarely convey different notions to different listeners within the context of a talk. But the flat slab and the Nevadaplano are, as usually used, lazy shortcuts designed to avoid grappling with a more complex world. They are oral mirages, temping visions made in one’s mind that cannot be examined too closely or compared with others. Simply enough, they are not science.
Quick pointer to a web posting about an article that gained a lot of attention (and so really good metrics) by being really bad. A good reminder that numbers of citations need not reflect any intrinsic quality.
There is a sort of odd melancholy portion of the literature that exists in science, a sort of paper or papers that are almost the valedictories of scientists as they stand back from conducting science. A lot of them really don’t belong in the literature per se, as some are a jumble of thoughts, hunches, recriminations and other odds and ends. Let’s call the whole collection codgertations. Frankly, they need their own home in the literature; to see why, let’s consider what some have looked like (no, GG is not going to name names; he is grumpy, not cruel).
At the more useful end of the spectrum are thoughts on seminal problems in the field that reflect experience of years but an inability to push through to completion, perhaps because of conflicts, physical disability, time, funding, etc. These are the seeds of proposals future, proposals these authors will never write, and so these can be gifts of insight to younger researchers who may have overlooked these problems.
Somewhere in the middle are kind of incomplete papers, stuff that’s been hanging out in a drawer (or a floppy) for many years that finally is being shoved out into the world to justify the effort made in keeping it all this time. Some of these are papers that were superseded years ago by other work; some are on things fairly tangential to ongoing research. Others just don’t quite get anywhere. None are really damaging anything; they maybe are just taking up space.
The worst flavor of codgertation is the self-celebrating review of one’s greatest hits, the very worst being stewed in a vat of recrimination for past injustices, allowing for debasing the contributions of others. These tend to assert rather than derive or infer and come across as lectures from angry old people who can’t be bothered to properly cite the relevant work or logically support an argument. “I’ve been in this field forever,” they seem to say, “and this is how things really are!” Right Grandpa, can you go back to watching Wheel of Fortune, please? Or yelling at those kids on the lawn?
What cements all of these is that they aren’t really typical scientific papers–and it is worth noting that only a fraction of practicing scientists ever write anything like any of these. But those that do are often counting on the deference of junior colleagues to allow them their say, and truth be told, there is indeed value in some of these papers. And we might actually be losing insights from those less egotistical senior scientists who choose not to write such unusual documents because they perceive that they don’t really belong. But if you review one of these papers, you can go nuts in trying to come to grips with egregious self-citation and a faint grip on the current literature, loosely connected topics, poorly supported logic, and other flaws that would sink a typical paper. Really reaming a paper written by such a senior scientist can seem disrespectful, yet letting it go as “science” feels dirty. So GG is suggesting that perhaps some journals should allow a new form of communication which (you presumably have guessed) would be termed “codgertations.” [OK, as the comment below notes, that is rude and self-defeating; the commenter’s suggestion of Reflections or GG’s Valedictories would be more appropriate.] The beauty of this is that we could capture the good without having to hammer the bad. We’d encourage those on their way out the door to share some wisdom even as we know we’ll have to accept some scolding. And we wouldn’t be caught between honoring our elders and defending our literature.
A comment on an earlier post got GG reflecting on just what counts as the professional literature. Some 20-30 years ago, things were pretty clear. Professional literature was what was published in journals and certain professional books (like AGU monographs and GSA special papers). These were reasonably well indexed and accessible to academics. Then there was the gray literature: stuff that was sort of out there. This included theses, field trip guides, meeting publications, and reports of various flavors. To some degree books were a little less than ideal. Finally there was proprietary stuff, things like industry-acquired reflection profiles and analyses that sometimes were allowed to see the light of day in some compromised form (e.g., location undisclosed). Although these are earth science materials, there are comparable things in other fields.
How is this holding up?
When representatives of scientific organization and funding bodies go before Congress, they will often remind representative and senators that basic science is a crucial underpinning of practical progress. Those of us who pursue such basic science often feel warm and fuzzy inside at such defenses, but how delusional is this?
In Science, Ahmadpoor and Jones attack this question by following citation trees, both within the patent world and the scientific world to see what fraction of the literature is connected to patents. And, kind of amazingly, the connections are stronger than many of us might have guessed; they come up with 80% of cited papers are connected down the line with patents, and 61% of patents are sourced in part on scientific literature.
Not surprisingly, this varies a lot by discipline. Virtually every nano-technology paper has spawned a patent, while only 38% of mathematics papers are linked to a patent. So GG dug into the supplementary material to see where geoscience came out in all this.
Geochemistry and geophysics had 66% of papers being connected to a patent with an average chain of about 3.4 citations to the patent (a value of 3 meaning the average paper was cited by another paper was cited by a paper that was cited by a patent). Interdisciplinary geoscience was about 63% and an average chain of 3.6 papers, geology 61% and 3.9. Oddly mining and mineral processing papers (about as applied as earth science categories get) only figured in patents 61% of the time and still needed about 3.4 citations to get to a patent (evidently the more useful papers got classified as metallurgy and mining, a category with 77% of the papers tying in to patents). Mineralogy did surprisingly well, 67% of papers figuring in eventual patents after an average of 3.5 citations.
Oddly, petroleum engineering was rather poor with only 52% of papers being cited in patents (one wonders if some papers had to come out after patenting had started).
Given that a lot of the geoscience literature is probably more closely tied to understanding individual resources than new techniques that might be applicable to eventual patents, these numbers are pretty reassuring to those of us who don’t follow how our work might go into practical application. But a caveat: by using full citation indices, the authors of this study make no attempt to determine which of the cited papers really were critical and which were window dressing. So, for instance, a paper that developed a new geophysical tool that was tested in the western U.S. might cite a review paper on the geology of the region in the introduction; that paper gets credit for contributing to the new tool even though any insights in that paper might be utterly incidental. Still, these numbers do make us on the basic research side of things feel like we aren’t selling snake oil in suggesting that eventually our research will prove of practical use….