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Editorial

Volume 39, Number 1, Spring 2007

To anonymise or not to anonymise: that is the question
Miriam Zukas, University of Leeds, UK  (m.zukas@leeds.ac.uk)

Like most other journals, Studies in the Education of Adults selects papers through an anonymised peer review process in which authors are not revealed to reviewers (unless they choose to identify themselves in their paper through self-citation or even self-naming); reviewers are not revealed to authors unless they indicate otherwise (perhaps because they are willing to elaborate with the author on points raised in their review). But what does anonymous peer reviewing really mean and why do we do it? These issues surfaced for Studies when an author emailed me after receiving a review in which the reviewer disclosed that they had attended a conference presentation of an earlier version of the paper. The author asked how this fitted with our policy of anonymous reviewing, since they were clearly known to the reviewer. This is a good question and it provoked some reflection on some of the less explicit aspects of the journal’s practice. Why do journals ask peers to review papers anonymously, a process which is onerous on both reviewers and editor, and which may be unsatisfactory for both authors and reviewers?

Peer review is usually seen as a mechanism for both quality control and development. Beth Graue (2006) uses the analogy of publishing as a playground in which editors are playground supervisors; reviewers are umpires or referees in the case of organised games, or, in the case of more informal games, picking who is in or out; authors are, of course, would-be players. Play is shaped by formal and informal rules, by emergent trends and, as in the playground, there are always complaints that someone is not playing fairly. Pursuing the analogy a little further, we might envisage anonymous reviewing as enforcing the rules of the playground, ensuring that play is fair to the author and that reviews are untainted by friendship networks and other biases so that work is reviewed on its merits, rather than on the reputation of the author or other irrelevant considerations. But such ‘fairness’ is perhaps illusory. First, what we mean by ‘fair’ will depend on our own epistemological stance: ‘In evaluating others’ work, we tend to play the game that best reflects our interests – in terms of our intellectual history and turf, of epistemological values, and resulting methodological tools . . .’ (Graue, 2006, p. 38). It is up to the editor to try and take this into account by selecting reviewers who take up different methodological and/or epistemological positions from each other.

Second, anonymity may be illusory. Studies from the medical literature show that the majority of reviewers are able to identify the authors of anonymous papers ( http://www.wame.org/wame-listserve-discussions/blinded-peer-review  ) and journals have resorted to using what they call the single-blind review system, in which reviewers know who wrote the paper, but authors do not know the identity of the reviewer(s). In a small field like the education of adults, the chances of reviewers being able to identify authors are probably even higher than in medicine. Editors may try to take this into account by selecting reviewers from other countries, although this is no guarantee of anonymity – the author may be well-known internationally, for example, or the reviewer, chosen for their expertise on a particular topic, may be aware of everyone writing on their specialist topic. And sometimes authors guess the identity of reviewers from the comments made, particularly if debates have been rehearsed publicly.

Third, anonymity may backfire: some reviewers may be more intemperate in their comments than they would choose to be if they knew the author was, for example, a new researcher. Graue suggests that the anonymity of reviewers may encourage playground bullying – attacking and name-calling under the protection of anonymous reviewing. Again, it is up to the editor to decide whether or not to send out uncensored reviews, supervising play, as it were. I am delighted to report that few reviewers for the journal indulge in such playground bullying and I rarely intervene in reviews; on the whole they are intended to be developmental and constructive in their tone, even if authors may, at first reading, be hurt by criticism. However, like many of our readers, I have been on the receiving end of rather less helpful reviews in relation to my own work – indeed, I know I have written several ‘stinkers’ which have been intended for the editor, rather than the author.

So Graue, like others, wonders if the benefits of anonymity outweigh the costs. She suggests that it might be beneficial to ‘situate’ reviews in some way by, for example, including generic markers of role and status or providing the option of authors and reviewers having contact at a later stage. She also argues that we should consider a more dialogic peer review process in which reviewers and editors are invited to consider the relationships between a submitted paper, their own scholarly work and the state of community knowledge and practice. Furthermore, instead of asking ‘Is this paper good enough?’, we should ask what we would lose if we did not hear this perspective and what guidance we should provide to bring it to a broader community. In other words, we should consider reflectively the social practices represented by peer review. We do not explicitly address such questions in our pro forma for reviewers, but reviewers often attend to them by writing reflexively when returning the review (for example, ‘I do not agree with this stance but it is important that we publish papers which represent different perspectives and this is a good and well-written piece’).

Other journals have confronted these issues by experimenting with open access review processes. For example, a new journal, Biology Direct, uses a system in which editors and peer reviewers are merged into one Editorial Board. The author is responsible for obtaining three reviewers’ reports from members of the Board; if nobody agrees to review it, the paper is, in effect, rejected. Once reviewers undertake to review a paper, they prepare comments for the reviewer and, if they wish, ‘public’ comments which will appear alongside the final paper when it is published. The editors claim that this will increase the responsibility and rewards for reviewers, eliminating ‘sources of abuse’ from the refereeing process. A variety of other experiments exist, including the use of e-prints where the paper appears for comment online for a fixed period, is then revised and finally submitted for review. However, such experiments tend to be restricted to fast-moving fields such as medicine, physics and some of the life sciences, rather than the humanities and social sciences.

So anonymous peer review has its flaws, and there are possibilities for changing the system using new technologies. But are we ready to consider more open systems or do these raise even more issues than they resolve? The Board would welcome comments and experiences on this topic.

The papers in this edition were all reviewed through the anonymised peer review process, but the possible author of at least one, ‘Theorising learning in life history: A psychosocietal approach’, was clearly identifiable to its reviewers because of the content. Henning Salling Olesen presents a perspective on learning derived from what might be loosely defined as the European critical theory tradition which draws on the concepts of subjectivity and experience to explore learning in everyday life. He makes clear that this perspective was developed through the Life History project at Roskilde University – an organisation which he names explicitly. He suggests psychoanalysis as a research tool for adult education, which he contrasts with more therapeutic uses, as in Celia Hunt and Linden West’s (2006) paper, ‘Learning in a border country: Using psychodynamic ideas in teaching and research’. Salling Olesen’s paper treads a careful line between structure and agency through the notion of learning as an identity process carried out in relation to subjective agency in a specific social context.

Simon Warren and Sue Webb also attend to the ongoing challenges of structure and agency in their paper, ‘Challenging lifelong learning policy discourse: Where is structure in agency in narrative-based research?’. They are keen to avoid being ‘captured by the discourse’ of responsibility and choice in neoliberal times, and seek to try and further counter-hegemonic research on adults’ learning. They consider whether or not the use of Bourdieu’s conceptual framework within adult education research on learning and identity is able to counter the individualisation of neoliberal discourses of ‘choice’. In order to address the issue, they focus on contemporary theorisations of ‘learning career’ and ‘learning culture’ and question the extent to which social structure is analysed adequately in such theorisations, making suggestions for further research questions to develop their counter-hegemonic argument.

Jean Barr’s paper, ‘Educational research and undiscovered public knowledge’ also makes a case for research which is counter-hegemonic, but argues that this should be based as much on experience and ‘praxis’ as theoretical and technical knowledge. She suggests that adult and lifelong learning be reclaimed as a site for research, drawing on work which engages with groups and communities that are developing knowledge and understanding to help them live their lives. Using four examples, dialogical art, peace work, the work of the World Social Forum and disruptive negotiation, she suggests that, although the cultural spaces for such work have shrunk because of the dominance of lifelong learning discourses and their association with vocational training, new cultural spaces are opening up which could lead to an invigorated research agenda.

While Barr celebrates ‘undiscovered public knowledge’ and considers what is happening in groups and communities at a community level, Liam Kane’s study seeks to understand the development of socialist activism at an individual level by exploring educational influences on members of the Scottish Socialist Party, a newly formed political party. The findings of his questionnaire survey of 278 members substantiate
Barr’s work by suggesting that involvement in informal adult education through social movements – industrial disputes, political demonstrations, local or single-issue campaigns, political parties – was much more important than other forms of adult education in the members’ political education. In other words, his paper contrasts with most work on radical adult education by looking at those who are already radicalised to understand their experience.

Scott Mclean uses a historical case study to explore the history of university extension at the University of Alberta during the period 1912–75. He argues that the claims of the four directors of extension during this period were influenced by ideological, political and economic changes taking place in Alberta and elsewhere. They were that university extension made three contributions to society: it extended the resources of the university for the benefit of citizens; it fostered social and economic progress; and it met the learning needs of individuals. Furthermore, it cultivated support for the university. These claims are more or less familiar, although today, perhaps the first is rather less fashionable, and the final claim – that extension cultivated support for the university – has, in some places, been positively rejected by universities themselves as they closed extramural and extension departments.

Finally, we include critical comments, this time from Daphne Loads on a piece published in 2005 by Kathryn Ecclestone, Dennis Hayes and Frank Furedi about the rise of therapeutic professionalism in the education of adults. We also include a response from Ecclestone and Hayes as a way of developing dialogue and debate about these important ideas. We welcome critical comments on any of the articles we publish (see notes for contributors for more details).

References

Graue, B. (2006) ‘The transformative power of reviewing’, Educational Researcher, Vol. 35, No. 9, pp. 36–41.

Hunt, C. and West, L. (2006) ‘Learning in a border country: Using psychodynamic ideas in teaching and research’, Studies in the Education of Adults, Vol. 38, No. 2, pp. 160–77.