A plea to journal editors: let people use their voice

In academic writing, a writer’s unique voice can be lost in the pursuit of scholarly publishing. There is a specific tone and voice many academics have become accustomed to, but this voice is only sometimes representative of the diverse voices we would otherwise have the privilege to hear from if only they were not dissuaded from publishing or rejected at the Editor’s desk. The favouritism of one voice that reflects what a scholarly voice “should” sound like fails to acknowledge that all voices have something to offer.

Recently, I was reacquainted with a paper by a respected colleague. The paper was exemplary in its clarity and insights. As a result, it has gone on to be highly cited. However, re-reading the paper 10 years on, I noticed something I had not previously noted. A critical element was absent: the author’s distinctive voice. Her unique expression, deeply rooted in her cultural heritage, and her ability to distil complex ideas into accessible language, reflecting the richness of her background, were missing. In our field, effective communication should be accessible and engaging to the people who may use the research and benefit – in her case – teachers and educators. We should all aim for this, at least in educational and developmental psychology.

In the current academic landscape, there is a tendency to promote a homogenous writing style, a trend crafted over the years into a form of scholarship where everyone seems to sound the same. This approach is inadvertently (or maybe intentionally) exclusionary, often marginalising voices that do not conform to academic writing conventions. We have even reached a point where colleagues and students are advised to cite only recent works, which can unintentionally prioritise modern perspectives over historical ones and neglect diverse cultural contributions. This issue extends beyond mere stylistic preferences- it touches on deeper issues of representation and inclusion in academia – what voice belongs and who gets to be heard. For instance, why shouldn’t a scientifically rigorous, well-written paper by someone whose first language is a language or dialect other than English not reflect their linguistic background? Why should research by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples not resonate with the methods and language intrinsic to their cultures and traditions? These questions must challenge the gatekeeping roles often played by Editors and Associate Editors in determining what constitutes an acceptable article to publish.

Decolonising academia is not about erasing established knowledge and what we have come to learn (Arshad, 2021). Instead, it is about listening and providing space to those who have been largely marginalised or ignored. This movement is about broadening our perspectives to include those historically overlooked. In Australia, for instance, the academic system has often failed to recognise Indigenous knowledge, which spans over 80,000 years, primarily because it was orally transmitted rather than written. This oversight reflects a broader issue: Who decides what scholarly writing should sound like, and where do these origins come from? We must acknowledge that scholarly outputs have primarily disregarded this vast body of Indigenous knowledge because someone decided that for knowledge to be valued, it needed to be written down.

How do we promote a more inclusive academic discourse? First, Editors and Associate Editors should aim to broaden their scope to include different voices and papers that reflect diverse perspectives written in diverse ways. This is about representation, allowing people to see that they, too, can publish and do not need to write in one way or style for their work to be seen. Such representation must also extend to editorial boards and peer reviewers. There should be scope to encourage more multilingual publications, non-traditional research methods in academic journals, or Special Issues focusing on underrepresented groups and topics.

It is ultimately imperative that the academic community re-evaluates its approach to scholarly writing. Diverse voices and writing can enrich academic discourse, making it more inclusive, representative, and impactful. This shift requires an effort from everyone involved, a challenge that may have immense benefits. However, this opinion may not resonate with everyone.

To those who vehemently disagree, I urge you to reflect on your position and privilege. It is crucial to acknowledge that my perspective also comes from a place of privilege. As an Editor, I have influence over what gets published in this journal (including this editorial). I grew up in the Northern suburbs of Adelaide and have spent over 20 years in university environments, where I have been accustomed to writing in a certain way. Those familiar with my hometown of Adelaide will understand that phrases like “heaps good” are unlikely to feature in prestigious journals like Nature anytime soon – but perhaps they should?