The case of the disappearing author

As collaborations get larger, more international, and more likely to involve coauthors who don’t actually know each other well, a problem that’s always existed is getting more troublesome. I’ve just seen the next step, and it isn’t pretty. It arises from the case – and the consequences – of the disappearing author.

I think (I hope) that we all know that coauthorship involves both rights and responsibilities. The most obvious right is that as a coauthor on a paper, you get to “count” that paper in various ways as yours: on your CV, on your Google Scholar page, in your h-index. But that’s not the only right you have; as a coauthor, you also have the right to approve, or not, the appearance of a paper with your name on it. That’s important because, as a coauthor, you also have responsibilities. The responsibility that gets the most attention is that you have to stand behind the paper. All authors should be able to explain the paper’s method and its findings; and if the paper turns out to be in error, or worse, fraudulent, then all authors will be asked to explain that.*

But there’s another responsibility that arises from the intersection of the approval right and the stand-behind-it responsibility. If authors have the right to approve, or not, publication of a paper with their name on it, then they also have the responsibility to be available to do that.

It’s been true for a while that, when a coauthored manuscript is submitted for review, the journal emails all coauthors to notify them that their name is on a submission and to give them a chance to object. This is, essentially, an opt-out system: if you don’t respond to the email, you’re assumed to have approved publication. But a few weeks ago, for the first time I ran into an opt-in system. The journal emailed all coauthors, informing them that before the manuscript would be sent to review, each coauthor had to approve it (by logging into the journal website and clicking a button**).

You can see the problem. With three authors who know each other well, this wouldn’t be a big deal. For us, with 15 authors – many of whom have never met – it was moderately painful (nobody, fortunately, proved impossible to find, but it wasn’t trivial). With a bigger collaboration, like this 287-author one, it would be almost certain that one author would forget, or ignore the email, or be traveling, or sick, or whatever. And God help the particle physicists.

If this opt-in system catches on, it has the potential to really hamstring an early-career researcher who depends on timely publication – or at least timely submission – to build a career. And the only solution will be for coauthors to take seriously the responsibility to be available. If you accept coauthorship on a manuscript, you don’t get to disappear. If you move and change email addresses, you need to inform your coauthors. In case of overzealous spam filters or other email breakdowns, you need to give your coauthors alternative contact information. If you plan to be away and out of touch, you need to make arrangements for someone, somehow, to execute your responsibility on your behalf.

That last point, actually, is a more general one. It’s not just if you plan to be away. There are all kinds of reasons why someone might be out of touch or unavailable for a while. They might be seriously ill, or bereaved, or suspended by their university, or any number of things – each of which is unlikely, one at a time, but with a large authorship team it becomes more and more likely that someone, at any given time, won’t be around to approve a submission. And with an opt-in system, publication can stall, and all authors suffer. This is why I’ve argued that each of us should have on file a document I call a “publication power-of-attorney”, that explicitly names a colleague to act in our stead when we’re away. The publication power-of-attorney is the best idea I’ve ever had that’s had absolutely zero traction: I have one on file, but I may be the only scientist in the world who does. I like thinking I’m special and unique (just like everybody else), but it would be better for all of us if it wasn’t in this way.

© Stephen Heard  February 14, 2023

Image: Gone Fishing, by Frida Toth, free to use via Pexels.com

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*^This can be messy, especially for junior authors caught up in malfeasance by someone more senior. In my own field of ecology, there are recent examples of early-career scientists spending huge amounts of effort doing the right thing in the face of more senior wrongdoing. Among them: hugely admirable responses to Pruittgate and Newmastergate.

**^Oh, how I wish it had been that simple. To “log in”, I had to register for an account, wait for 2-factor authentication of my login to it, fill out a profile, and just generally grit my teeth and pull my hair for about 15 minutes. Then I could click the approval button.

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