The Ethics Of Citation: A Matter Of Science's Family Values

As scientists, what do we owe our colleagues and the science community at large? With a little thought, I suspect, each of us would come up with a respectable list. Here is a short one of my own: honesty in performing experiments and reporting results (I suspect this would appear at the top of many lists); communication of our results in a timely manner (even the most important discovery is useless unless other people know about it); objectivity in evaluating our colleagues' work (for example, when reviewing manuscripts and grant proposals); and fairness in recognizing the contributions of others. Some might regard such norms as ideals to be aimed for but not necessarily achieved. After all, scientific research has a strong social component, and scientists therefore are motivated by a variety of factors (B. Cronin, The Citation Process, London, Taylor Graham, 1984). Still, I suspect that commonly recognized standards are not far from the consciousness of most practicing scientists. Although scientists are not sworn to the equivalent of the Hippocratic oath when they get their degrees, I believe they tacitly accept these norms. Reason dictates that these norms also apply in reverse: We expect our colleagues to behave honorably and objectively toward us. That is why, not long ago, I got fed up with what seems to be an all-too-common practice of negligently or purposely not citing other people's work. Naturally, it was the omission of my own work in a recent paper that precipitated this essay. However, I am sure that many have the same gripe. If you are not convinced that at least the perception of a problem is out there, try mentioning it in conversation. The problem has even been addressed more systematically, including surveys such as those described by Manfred Kochen that support the perception (M. Kochen, Journal of Documentation, 43:54-64, 1987). This is not the first time I have been slighted in this way. One of my friends tells me that when it happens to him, he draws the author's attention to the problem by sending a reprint together with a polite note ("I enjoyed your paper; I guess you haven't see this"), and occasionally I have done the same. Mostly, I've fumed for an hour or two and then let it drop with a resigned, "So what is new?" But is that the proper stance? Perhaps if the problem were illuminated with the light of publicity, it could be checked to some extent. I have another reason for coming forward: I wasn't the only person on the paper in question. I had two coauthors, younger people with most of their careers ahead of them. They can benefit only if the community recognizes their contributions, and the prime way that happens is through citation. Admittedly, there is no consensus or uniform guide on how and when to cite. Citation practices are more like customs that vary between disciplines and journals (N. Kaplan, American Documentation, 16:179-84, 1965; E. Garfield, The Scientist, Feb. 3, 1997, page 11). Moreover, formal training in proper citation may be nearly nonexistent, according to Eugene Garfield, who also discusses 15 reasons for citation, not the least of which is recognition of related work done by one's peers (E. Garfield, Library Quarterly, 66:449-58, 1996). Recognition is the key to a fundamental function of citation in the body of science. Traditionally, basic research becomes public knowledge when scientists freely "give their intellectual property away" by publishing it in the public domain, according to Robert K. Merton (R.K. Merton, J. Gaston, eds., The Sociology of Science in Europe, Carbondale, Southern Illinois University Press, 1977, pp. 47-8). The main reward, other than the satisfaction that comes with hard work and discovery, is recognition by one's peers. To again quote Merton, "Since recognition of the worth of one's work by qualified peers is, in science, the basic form of reward (all other rewards deriving from it) and since it can only be widely accorded within the social system of science when the attributed work is widely known, this provides the institutionalized incentive for the open publication, without direct financial reward, of scientific work." In other words, recognition and open exchange of information go hand in hand in supporting the fabric of basic science. Of course, citation practices also have important practical repercussions (salary increases, grant success, promotion) when coupled with quantitative indexing of scientific productivity. Not long after a recent issue of a prestigious journal appeared, a colleague alerted me to the fact it contained a paper on a subject nearly identical to that covered in one of my own, published almost a year earlier. A careful reading revealed that indeed the paper concerned the same family of proteins, in the same species, with some of the same characteristics as the one we investigated, yet not a word about our work was mentioned. We even reached similar conclusions, though our methods were more indirect. The paper had been submitted five months after ours appeared. One of the authors had been in contact with us on several occasions and had even requested some of our research materials. There was no doubt whatsoever: He knew about our work when the paper was written. Our paper was clearly related to theirs and could even be viewed as precedent. So, why wasn't it cited? I called the author with whom I had been in contact, and after a moment of awkwardness he apologized and acknowledged that our work was indeed relevant. He told me that in fact he had cited it in the sections of the paper he sent to the coauthor in charge of the writing. Yet, that coauthor had omitted it in the final draft. To his credit, Dr. X took some responsibility but steadfastly maintained that it was the other person's fault. I should add that the coauthor in charge doesn't usually work on these organisms, but apparently ignorance of the literature was not the problem. Nor was it an innocent case of "citation amnesia" (E. Garfield, Current Contents, No. 23, pp. 5-9, June 9, 1980). When I contacted her by E-mail, I was told that she knew about our work but chose not to mention it. Her reasons, which included space constraints, seemed unsatisfactory. I even contacted the society member who transmitted the paper. He sympathetically advised that this sort of thing is rampant, so I should just forget about it and promote my own work. That's like saying that since theft is rampant, why call the police when your car disappears? Just buy another one. If neglect of our own work had been the only fault, I might have stood on shakier ground. But the authors underplayed the work of others, too. While they were cited, two papers upon which our own study was based were treated inadequately, in my view. Critical discoveries that predicted the activity that the present paper now claimed for its own were never mentioned. It was left to a persistent, dedicated reader to ferret out the information and thereby realize that the table had been set by others. Moreover, additional papers on another protein family were not cited, despite considerable discussion of proteins with the same properties in other organisms. Could it be that mention of relevant work was avoided so as not to draw the readers' attention to it? It is tempting to fault the editors and referees who reviewed the paper. Perhaps they should have spotted the problem. Indeed, editors and reviewers serve a valuable, constructive role in bringing important information to the attention of authors. However, it is difficult to stay on top of the literature these days, especially outside of one's immediate area of expertise. In the final analysis, responsibility rests with authors. I do not buy the excuse that space constraints precluded mention of our work, even for the journal in question, which has reasonably strict page limits. Our research could have been noted in a sentence or less, involving only one additional reference. Besides, space constraints in no way justify the intentional omission of relevant citations, a principle with which the editors of the journal would probably agree. I would be the last person to insist that I covered every relevant paper in every one of my own publications. I am sure I have left out an important paper now and then. But I never purposely omitted a paper I knew was directly relevant, and I always interpreted relevance in a broad sense for several reasons. First, I believe it's a matter of honesty. I also think citation is part of paying debts, as Kochen noted. Furthermore, it's in my self-interest to be generous with citations. After all, scientific disciplines are relatively small communities, and a reputation for ignoring one's peers can get around quickly. I therefore have tried to instill in my students and postdoctoral fellows the importance of citing the work of colleagues, and I did that by example, not just sermon. I have even done battle with editors over my references (too many, not too few). So if I left out important references in my own papers, it was not because I chose to ignore them. As a journal editor myself, I tell authors to double-check all references and citations in their revisions, and I encourage them to be inclusive. I suggest that authors add papers that they did not know about, and I support referees who do the same in their reviews. Conversely, I am also reluctant to ask authors to delete references unless the citations are unnecessarily redundant. Barry A. Palevitz is a research professor in the department of botany at the University of Georgia. These are difficult and strange times. Science is at once incredibly exciting and incredibly stressful. Amazing discoveries from cells to the cosmos are pouring out of journals, the media, and the Internet. But the same people who are making the discoveries are also under unprecedented pressure for jobs, funds, and recognition. It is precisely at times like these that we ought to go out of our way to preserve the sense of community implicit in the scientific enterprise. We have a responsibility to fight the potential negative impact of this pressure on our behavior and not yield to shortcuts that shortchange our colleagues. We are all aware of highly visible cases of science fraud that have drawn headlines and investigations, to the extent that science has been tarnished in the eyes of many. Even practices that may seem less felonious (but note that failure to cite in order to hog credit is close to plagiarism, according to Kochen) can seriously erode the foundation of trust upon which scholarship operates, set the wrong example for young people on the way up, and alienate those contemplating science as a career. I have seen the disappointment in the eyes of a student who, having gone into research with idealistic notions in mind, was rudely awakened to reality. I believe that ethics starts with the recognition that our colleagues' work should be respected. As Norman Kaplan wrote, "a major function of citation practices is the reaffirmation of the underlying general norms of scientific behavior" (N. Kaplan, American Documentation, 16:179-84, 1965). So call this an appeal to reason, fairness, etiquette, and responsibility; an appeal to the realization that we are part of a community based on cooperation and trust, which in turn depend on good will and honorable reputations. I hesitate to use the term, but it seems to me that these are science's family values.

The Ethics Of Citation: A Matter Of Science's Family Values

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