Before We Talk-Story About Authentic Representation,We Need to Talk About Relationality,Ethics,and Integrity Throughout Research and Publishing Networks

Introduction

In the academy, peer reviewers can choose to exercise hierarchical dominance. Although the majority act ethically and with integrity, peer reviewers can engage in power politics to make or destroy careers (Rabinow, 1986), decide whose cultural reality is represented and how (Clifford, 1983), and enhance their reputation by suppressing fresh perspectives that challenge their published research by only accepting the work of colleagues who share their standpoint (Muthanna et al., 2023). These types of unethical behaviours should not be ignored; however, because the powerful “refuse to [publicly] discuss … issues that are uncomfortable for them” (Rabinow, 1986, p. 253), they are unchallenged. This is problematic, because “what cannot be publicly discussed cannot be analysed or rebutted” (Rabinow, 1986, p. 253). Thus, despite the shared responsibility with the researcher to act with integrity, avert co-destructive actions and avoid negative ethics (Hojat et al., 2003; Howland & Powell Davies, 2022; Moore et al., 2024; Rodda et al., 2024), peer reviewer power politics are relegated to mere discussions in “corridors and faculty clubs” of the academy (Rabinow, 1986, p. 253). This is a missed opportunity; just as the peer review process aims to improve the quality of published work, the public discussion of perceived negative ethics can only improve the quality of peer reviewers.

The purpose of this article is to draw on a previous manuscript’s journey, to question whether the power imbalances and potential for negative ethics in Western ethics review processes, which are the antithesis of the Indigenous paradigm, could prevent authentic and mutually agreed findings co-created in performances of talk-story from being published. Exemplifying the nature of the power imbalance discussed, I cannot provide illustrative direct quotes to substantiate claims of negative ethics and comply with Ethics Review Board (ERB) guidance; therefore, a self-censored hybrid factual/hypothetical story analysis approach is adopted to facilitate the public discussion of negative ethics practices potentially adopted by a minority of reviewers. In this hybrid factual/hypothetical discussion, readers are asked to trust my integrity, interpret what I have consent to publish and imagine the themes and comments omitted as they create an interpretation from my inferences (Smith & Sparkes, 2009; Swain & King, 2022). In doing so, the reader is enabling Howland and Powell Davies (2022) proposal for further methodological and analytical discussion of the questionable morals and dubious values associated with negative ethics in the research process. To contextualise the discussion of negative ethics in the peer review process, in this hybrid factual/hypothetical story analysis I describe the ethics, data co-creation, write-up, and responses to 16 years of presenting and 20 years of trying to publish various versions of a Scottish surf culture ethnography manuscript. Then, I discuss how I performed talk-story to circumvent the negative ethics and culture wars some peer reviewers are seemingly intent on imposing on the research process.

Throughout the hybrid factual/hypothetical story analysis, I ask the reader to consider at what point is a situational ethics approach (Goode, 2015), which breaks confidentiality to quote directly, justified. Is it when the author’s competence to perform research is related to a social descriptor of race, ethnicity, or gender, when the authentic representation of the participant’s lived experiences is denied, or when culturally racist tropes are used to mock a study’s participants’ intellectual abilities and lifestyles? Alternatively, am I overly sensitive or protective of my participants? Are negative ethics and the silencing of marginalized perspectives simply an accepted component of review in the Western research paradigm? If so, why do most reviewers avoid making these types of comments. Thus, my hybrid factual/hypothetical story analysis of a manuscript’s journey and resultant peer reviewer hierarchical domination of representation has implications for researchers from underrepresented and/or marginalized groups seeking to authentically represent Indigenous epistemologies, and/or misrepresented populations in Western publications. Consequently, answering the aforementioned hypothetical “what if” question has far-reaching implications for any researcher attempting to publish future performances of talk-story.

Previously (Cook, 2023), I discussed how performing talk-story, an Indigenous Research Methodology (IRM), enabled me to co-create data with and authentically represent previously silenced and self-silenced participants. The purpose of my article was to suggest a methodology to co-create data with consenting participants who perceived that previous researchers had succeeded in what Goode (2015, p. 56) describes as “spoiling the field”. A spoiled field, according to Goode (2015, p. 56), is an ethnographic context rendered “unresearchable” because its participants perceive that previous researchers have deceived and/or misrepresented them. Indeed, throughout my studies, participants have described their expectations of being denied authentic representation (see Cook, 2023). Expectations led to verification when I attempted to publish authentic representations of their stories of surf culture. I discussed these challenges in my doctoral thesis, ethnography of Scottish surf culture (Cook, 2024a), and talk-story article (Cook, 2023), where I documented the consenting participants’ collective frustration with scholarly (mis)representation of surf culture as a field of constant them-versus-us conflicts.

What I omitted from the talk-story article (Cook, 2023) was a discussion of how I acted with integrity throughout various forms of data co-creation to comply with the requirements of various ERBs. This was because by the time I authored the talk-story article (Cook, 2023), I had met all the regulatory obligations, including ERB requirements, and been awarded a BSc, MA, and PhD for completing my studies. Furthermore, I had been the Chair of my Department’s ERB and published various articles. Thus, I omitted descriptions of the ethics approval processes for numerous previous studies because nothing innovative or extraordinary occurred, and no ethical concerns were raised or reported by my participants, myself, or the University ERB. Indeed, throughout my studies, I was aware that I was working in a field that was spoiled; thus, the constant them-versus-us conflicts described in previous studies were rare. Therefore, it was unlikely that I would experience the forms of risk or harm that ERB guidelines offer protection from. This contrasts with the ethical paradox experienced by previous ethnographers, where they were aware that their version of surf culture, as a field of constant them-versus-us conflict, where physical and psychological violence is the norm, exposed them to an unethical risk of harm. Consequently, due to the perceived need to report something (Scott, 2018; Tavory, 2016), I omitted descriptions of mundane and commonplace ethics, data co-creation, and analysis practices where nothing noteworthy occurred. Therefore, in this article, I explain my mundane ethnographic and talk-story procedures, not only to guide future performances of talk-story methodology in a spoiled field but also to provide context for the discussion of the “something” of perceived peer reviewer negative ethics.

In the talk-story article (Cook, 2023), I overcame the challenges Smith and Sparkes (2009) suggest are associated with meeting the ethical obligation of authentically converting oral narratives into written work. Thus, I accomplished the purpose of the research process by publishing original co-created findings which would survive scrutiny by the participants. However, in the talk-story article, due to Western ethical constraints, my narrative was partially self-silenced, which resulted in a truncated discussion of whether my participants’ perceptions of silencing and/or misrepresentation were justified. Put simply, the actions of known (to the participants) and unknown previous researchers and peer reviewers played a significant role in the story mutually co-created by the researched and the researcher but were conspicuous by their absence. Thus, although I maintained the integrity of my research ethics, I only partially fulfilled my obligation to the relational accountability expected in an IRM (Wilson, 2001).

I am not the first to self-silence themselves and their participants or to compromise their integrity to comply with Western ethical constraints. Reflecting on his lifework in “the field”, Foote Whyte (1984, p. 220) described the interrelatedness of ethics and integrity, stating that:

I know of no rule to guide us in walking the line between the two extremes [of publishing authentic representations that critique our colleagues’ research or self-censoring to indulge disciplinary sensitivities]. The best we can do is to weigh and balance rights and obligations as we go along.

It is the uncertainty surrounding this weighing of rights and obligations that enables negative ethics to prevail. Indeed, Howland and Powell Davies (2022) define negative ethics as bad behaviour that is justified by its perpetrator and tolerated by society.

According to Goode (2015) and Riessman (2008), this dilemma can be solved by allowing the reader to interpret a full and balanced analysis of the discussion. This is an approach adopted by Datta and Starlight (2024) in their article discussing IRM, where they included an unanalysed transcript of their conversation. However, due to the confidentiality policies of many journals, discussing peer reviewers’ comments is not possible. Most publishers and editors demand that reviewer comments remain private and confidential, relying on their colleagues’ professional integrity and/or compliance with guidance on ethical responsibilities. This unquestioning trust and requirement for absolute confidentiality is problematic if accountability is also expected. Indeed, Demant and Moretti (2024) describe a paucity of guidance on how and when researchers can cross the public-private divide. Issues of intrusiveness, anonymity, and whether informed consent is required in all situations create an obstacle for all but the most established researchers when seeking accountability for unethical behaviour, questionable morals, and dubious values (Demant & Moretti, 2024; Goode, 2015).

Fine (1993) describes how ethnographers will crop people they do not agree with out of a study or will ethically include descriptions of their misbehaviour. In this case, to ethically include descriptions of perceived misbehaviour, I adopted masking techniques (Jerolmack & Murphy, 2017), by creating Composite Character Narratives (Arjomand, 2022) comprising of comments made by consenting peer reviewers at conferences, intertwined with selected negative ethics themes paraphrased from hypothetical journal peer reviewer comments. Many of the actual destructive themes were omitted because the conference peer reviewers had not made similar comments, but the difficulty in portraying tone in written work enabled hypothetical co-destructive comments to be presented in a way that the reader may interpret in the context of the narrative (Smith & Sparkes, 2009; Swain & King, 2022). Nonetheless, despite the omission of the most contentious themes, it was important to provide insight into the responses provided by hypothetical journal peer reviewers who have the power to silence challenging findings. Worryingly, if conference peer reviewers had not identified limitations in my studies, and I had not had the foresight to seek consent to use their comments in published work, ERB and journal confidentiality requirements combined with journal reviewer de facto anonymity, meaning they cannot be contacted to request consent to publish their direct quotes or comments, would result in discussions of whether silenced research participants are denied authentic representation remaining in the “corridors and faculty clubs” of the academy (Rabinow, 1986, p. 253).

The Ethics of Peer Review

Ethical thoughts and actions are founded on axiology and integrity, as a set of values guiding how researchers ought to behave (Howland & Powell Davies, 2022; Muthanna et al., 2023; Zakus et al., 2007). These thoughts and actions are directed by a plethora of discipline-specific ethics organisations and ERB guidelines, which inform researchers’ ethical behaviour to prevent them or their participants from experiencing risk or any form of harm (Demant & Moretti, 2024; Goode, 2015).

Likewise, every academic publisher issues guidance to peer reviewers to remind them of their ethical responsibility to the author(s) and their obligation to preserve the integrity of the publication. For instance, COPE (2024) explains that “journals have an obligation to provide transparent policies for peer review processes, and reviewers have an obligation to conduct reviews in an ethical and accountable manner”. Therefore, “the peer review process depends to a large extent on trust … and requires that everyone involved behaves responsibly and ethically” (COPE, 2024). Being ethical means only rejecting an article if it does not meet the scope of the journal, and not because it challenges the reviewer’s dogmatic worldview (Foote Whyte, 1984; Muthanna et al., 2023; Rockwell, 2006; Wilson, 2012). Thus, peer reviewers must conduct the review objectively and with empathy, and be “balanced, fair, helpful, and directed towards the research. For this reason, the peer review process is most useful when it follows established guidelines, avoids personal preferences, and refers to ‘the research’ rather than ‘the author’” (Rodda et al., 2024, p. 779). Furthermore, when rejecting an article, the reviewer should “help the authors prepare their manuscript for submission to a different journal … and avoid personal criticism” (Springer Nature, 2024). Indeed, Curry (2012, p. 15) suggests “when reviewing, try to remember that you are an author too and be professional and constructive in your approach … allow time for your reasonable self to rise to the fore”. Then reviewers must ask themselves “how would you feel if you received this report? Would the tone offend you? Is it courteous and professional? Are there unnecessary personal remarks or antagonistic comments about the authors?” (Springer Nature, 2024).

Consequently, co-creating data and publishing ethical research is a relationship involving trust between discipline-specific ethics organisations, ERB, the researched and researcher, and peer reviewers. Thus, idealized Western ethics processes can facilitate the performance of IRM. Albeit there are power imbalances which cut across publishing networks. This imbalance of power is recognized by the requirement for guidance, which, consistent with Simmel’s (1907/1971, 1918/1971) notion of double situation contradictions, suggests that in the peer review process, if ethical thoughts and actions exist, unethical thoughts and actions must also co-exist. Indeed, according to Hawkes (2012, p. 17), peer reviewers “aren’t saints, so we must expect all of these [unethical] things [favouring dominant theories, or slating rival studies] to happen from time to time”. However, unlike researchers who face significant consequences for unethical behaviour and/or an absence of research integrity, peer reviewers are merely advised to read the guidance on accountability (Curry, 2012; Hawkes, 2012; Muthanna et al., 2023). Consequently, there is a detachment between perceptions of trust, idealized ethical behaviour, integrity and the accountability of researchers and peer reviewers in practice.

To address this detachment, open peer review processes have emerged to introduce transparency into the system (Holst, 2022). All peer reviewers who comply with COPE guidelines have nothing to fear from this level of transparency. However, open peer review processes only function through mutual consent and following publication. Thus, it does not account for the negative ethics described by Hawkes (2012), which prevent articles from being published. Put simply, in the context of publishing an article, relational accountability is skewed away from the researched and the researcher to favour peer reviewers. This is problematic. To quote Fine (1993, p. 288), “ethnography is nothing until inscribed”. However, the notion of co-destruction, where one partner deliberately damages the work of another (Vargo & Lusch, 2008), suggests that ethnography is nothing until published; thus, peer reviewers perform a distortedly powerful role in how, when, and if the researched are represented.

Seeking Ethical Approval

The ethical approval processes leading to the data co-creation and preparation of my Scottish surf culture ethnography (Cook, 2024a) and talk-story article (Cook, 2023) revealed the increasing exactitude and technological advancements in the constant evolution of ERB requirements. In practice, obtaining approval and recording consent progressed to include verbal, paper-based, and electronic communications. Nonetheless, as verified by my degree awards, I complied with each institution’s ERB requirements for my level of study at the time of data co-creation.

My ethics journey began when I enrolled on the BSc (Honours) Surf Science and Technology degree and continued through my MA Sport Coaching and Development degree and doctoral studies. For my doctoral studies, where I performed a consumer-oriented ethnography (Arnould, 1998) of surf brand consumer behaviour, I was required to submit a written study rationale report and request ERB approval before commencing my research. The approval was granted and reviewed by the ERB when requested and at each annual progression panel as the study progressed and the data co-creation tools evolved until the completion and award of the doctorate. My doctoral institution operates an ethics traffic light approval system; red – vulnerable populations (anyone aged under 18 years or diagnosed with a mental health condition); Amber – the general population; green – secondary data studies, auto-ethnography/self-reflection. I requested red approval to employ the holistic methods consistent with a consumer-oriented ethnography of global surf culture with participants aged 14 years and above. Thus, my recruitment materials, participant information forms, informed voluntary consent forms (requesting permission to accept signed or verbal consent), loco parentis assent forms, permission to record forms, and participant debrief forms were subject to an additional layer of scrutiny to protect the vulnerable. These forms provided participants with information on the purpose of the study and how their data would be used, how anonymity is safeguarded, how confidentiality, including data storage, is managed, explained that participants have the right to withdraw consent at any stage, and included my contact information.

The ethical implications of incorporating a talk-story methodology in my doctoral study were straightforward because some Western and Indigenous grounded theory approaches to research complement each other (Quinn, 2022; Wilson, 2001). Therefore, I could combine an Indigenous paradigm and talk-story methodology, with its focus on respect, relational accountability, and mutual trust when co-creating data, with the ethnographic informal conversation data co-creation methods continuously approved by my ERB. Adopting an Indigenous paradigm simply meant that, rather than conversing with surfers to meet the needs of my study (generating data), I employed processes to provide meaningful answers through co-created stories (Windchief et al., 2018). Thus, when performing talk-story with surfers in my ethnography, I continued to be mindful of Windchief et al. (2018, p. 533) distinction between Indigenous research (as something “that is done on or to Indigenous peoples”) and Indigenous methodologies (as something “done with and for Indigenous communities”) which require a unique set of ethical responsibilities and researcher integrity.

Similar ERB-approved processes were followed at a later date for two sets of pilot studies and then to co-create talk-story and ethnographic data with women who surf in Hawaiʻi, which is discussed in the talk-story article (Cook, 2023) and a later accidental ethnography article (Cook, 2024b).

Recruitment, Data Co-Creation, and Informed Consent

Demant and Moretti (2024) criticize researchers for discussing how they obtained informed consent, but not how participants were ethically recruited. To guide future researchers who choose to perform talk-story in a spoiled field where participants mistrust researchers and expect to be misrepresented, here I reflect on recruiting participants, data co-creation, and obtaining informed consent.

My BSc research adopted inter- and multi-disciplinary approaches to understand initially Scottish, then British surf culture. Data co-creation consisted of interviews, questionnaires, conversations, and physical testing. Participants were recruited face-to-face on campus, in surf shops, on beaches, at surf contests, when surfing, and in the streets of surfing communities or via emails to acquaintances and some speculative contacts. Many more people declined participation than accepted. Before the data was co-created, each participant was provided with information about the study and asked to sign or physically tick a box on an informed consent form, provide consent via email, or provide verbal consent. The consent forms were submitted with the assessments for grading. My master’s degree study followed a similar process, albeit with a more diverse sample population of sports participants and organizations.

When adopting an ethnographic methodology for my doctoral study, there was a step change in my understanding and approach to research processes. As stipulated in the Declaration of Helsinki, I began to reflect on why I was co-creating data and what my relational accountability and ethical responsibility were to the participants. This was motivated by the increasing challenge of recruiting participants in a spoiled field, where surfers had identified people and places they perceived to have been misrepresented and used this as their rationale not to participate. Similar to my BSc studies, participants were recruited face-to-face in surf shops, on beaches, at surf contests, when surfing, and in the streets of surfing communities or via emails to acquaintances and some speculative contacts. Again, many more declined to participate than consented. For those who did participate, data co-creation was consistent with a consumer-oriented ethnography, where natural ethnographic methods, such as recording field note data from participant observations, were combined with other “non-natural” (Arnould, 1998, p. 87) market research data co-creation techniques, such as informal conversations, semi-structured interviews, consumer behaviour questionnaires, and eventually talk-story to represent holistic lived experiences. My pre-arranged data co-creation followed a standardized process of recruiting the participant, talk-story about myself and the research, providing a participant information form, then informed consent and consent to record (the interview) forms, talk-story, co-creating interview data, then providing a participant debrief form explaining the participant’s right to withdraw, before performing talk-story to summarize the co-created narrative and conclude the interview or questionnaire completion. To enable the use of talk-story data, before providing the participant information form I explained that this was an ethnographic interview; therefore, the participants were consenting to have our informal conversations noted and published, as well as what they were wearing, any postures and gestures, and so forth from the outset to the conclusion of our meeting and any follow-up communications. This was required because I sent a thank you email and requested post-meeting reflective insights.

When performing informal conversations and talk-story with haphazard participants outside of prearranged data co-creation, I adopted two approaches as the significance of the spoiled field emerged. In my BSc and MA studies, I identified myself as a researcher and the purpose of the study at the beginning of the conversation. This led to the majority of participants declining involvement. However, towards the latter part of my doctoral study, I began to reveal that I was a researcher towards the end of performing talk-story rather than at the beginning. This delay in identifying myself as a researcher was motivated by working in a spoiled field where participants were sceptical of how they or their culture would be represented. Revealing my research intentions later in the talk-story enabled me to build mutual trust, which led to an improved ratio of participants who were attracted to the research purpose, understood who would use their data, and were willing to provide consent. Following a performance of talk-story in an informal context, I sought definite verbal consent. For example, after talk-story with a participant who declined a formal interview but co-created data on their consumer choices and the notion of a spoiled field, I asked for consent to use the data. The participant replied, “Do what you like mate”. I stated that it was unethical and incompatible with talk-story values to do what I liked; it had to be their informed decision. He replied, “Okay then, yes, I consent to you using our chat for your study”. This delayed identification, whilst demonstrating integrity and remaining ethical, provided insight into participant expectations, helped build mutual trust, and enhanced recruitment. Following this approach, three forms of participants emerged for recruitment. Those who consented to participate in a recorded interview/talk-story to co-create data for my doctoral ethnography, others who declined an interview but verbally consented to talk-story for my ethnography and/or about the spoiled field, and others who performed talk-story about the spoiled field and were removed from the field notes because they did not consent to the co-created data being used.

My netnography replicated Kozinets’s (2002, p. 61) recruitment and informed consent processes for studying “the field behind the screen”. Similar to Kozinets, I was a member of two publicly available online forums (northseasurf.com and magicseaweed.com) throughout my ethnographies of surfing. I identified myself as a surfer and a researcher from the beginning of my studies and provided updates on my progression through distinct levels of study (BSc, MA, PhD); however, I did not repeat this information in every post (it was available by clicking my profile). Nonetheless, when relevant data was posted, I direct messaged the poster to identify my research intentions and request consent to use their publicly available data in my ERB approved ethnography and/or to request an interview. For example, following an extensive online conversation with a member of northseasurf.com, I sent a direct message requesting consent to use this co-created data. Despite the conversation being publicly available, the poster declined; however, they engaged in an email exchange to reveal a new theme on why the field was spoiled. I requested permission to use the theme, but that was also declined. I accepted this lack of consent and did not use the publicly available data or private communications. Indeed, I did not use data publicly available in online forums from anyone who did not consent or did not respond; I interpreted not replying as not consenting. However, most people messaged me their consent electronically or provided verbal consent when we met.

When presenting at conferences during ERB-approved studies and ethnographies, a form of accidental ethnography (see Fujii, 2014; Levitan et al., 2017) emerged with participants being recruited and data co-created simultaneously at these events. The participants’ involvement was in the form of peer reviewing, asking questions and/or offering advice. Valuing my peers’ constructive criticisms and knowing that some were editors and reviewers of and for cultural studies journals, I habitually requested verbal consent to include their themes, comments, or suggestions in published versions of the study. Indeed, as Swain and King (2022) explain, a researcher never knows when co-created data will be important; therefore, it is worthwhile seeking consent at that time. Happily, every conference peer reviewer provided verbal consent to use their anonymized comments, with some offering additional guidance as we performed talk-story.

Recruitment for the women who surf in Hawaiʻi consumer-oriented ethnography, discussed in the talk-story article (Cook, 2023), was different. It began a few months before my visit. Due to the geographic distance from the United Kingdom and being an outsider, my initial recruitment strategy was to contact surf clubs, surfing organisations, and academic colleagues to initiate a snowball sample. I provided a detailed outline of the study rationale, participant information form, and evidence of ethical approval. Most ignored my request, others declined, but a few promoted my ethnography, resulting in potential participants contacting me via email to arrange a meeting, enabling a snowball sample to emerge. I repeated the same standardized process for pre-arranged and informal data co-creation I had employed in my doctorate but allowed extra time for performances of talk-story as the principal method.

In addition to the prearranged meetings and customary consumer-oriented ethnography practices, an accidental ethnography occurred where the participants and opportunity self-recruited. During this previously uneventful accidental ethnography, I was surfing, observing, and performing informal talk-story with participants at a surfing location (see Cook, 2024b) in compliance with the intersectional element of my ERB-approved women who surf study. As with many accidental ethnographies (Fujii, 2014; Levitan et al., 2017), these participants were not initially aware of my reason for visiting O’ahu and were not recruited or asked for verbal consent until nothing of note turned into something when an incident of conflict occurred. Following the occurrence, I provided information on the proposed use of my accidental ethnographic observations and talk-story communications. Now informed, my surfing peers consented to the talk-story and observations pre-, during, and post-conflict being used in a study of a lived experience in surf culture (see Cook, 2024b). Fortunately, the accidental ethnography observed was within the context of my ERB approval to co-create data in the ocean; therefore, I was not required to seek the type of retrospective accidental ethnography ethical approval advocated by Fujii (2014) and Levitan et al. (2017).

As discussed above, my approach to recruiting and co-creating data with the participants was consistent with a consumer-oriented ethnography (Arnould, 1998) and included purposely noting points of interest in the informal conversations/talk-story that precede and follow formal interviews (Swain & King, 2022). In addition, I habitually requested consent to use co-created data when it emerged in accidental ethnography contexts. All of which were consistent with the processes approved by my ERB. Consequently, as stated in my previous article (Cook, 2023), performing talk-story is as accessible in practice as the Western qualitative research methodology of informal conversation (Swain & King, 2022). However, complying with Western ERB requirements limits the authentic representation and relational accountability expected in an IRM; hence, there is a need to co-create ethical expectations specifically for a talk-story methodology.

Writing Up Mutually Agreed Authentic Findings

Data co-creation began when I started to research Scottish and then British surfing for assessments in my BSc and continued throughout my master’s degree. It then became the purpose of my doctoral study of global surf culture. A wealth of ethically compliant data revealed that diverse groups of surfers had evolved to live in harmonious and inclusive cultures where surfing was a pleasurable experience. Thus, the data write-up sought to offer a balanced, mutually agreed perspective to counter the constant negativity inherent in discussions of serious leisure, where power inequities, destructive sociation, and conflict are assumed to be the default choices underpinning all human interaction (Simmel, 1908/1971; Stebbins, 2009; Thin, 2014).

However, in contrast to discussions of diverse surf communities interacting in constructive ways, a parallel and dominant data set emerged. Surfers who agreed or declined to participate in my ethnography frequently referenced previous studies and/or named cultural studies scholars they disagreed with. Some had participated in these earlier studies, and others had read them. ¹ This presented an ethical dilemma. I queried the perceptions underpinning some comments. I knew some of the cultural studies researchers, and/or had read their articles and understood their disciplinary purpose. Furthermore, I also employed sociological theories in my research; therefore, I did not share my participants’ negative perceptions of a diverse discipline. I questioned whether I should ignore the dominant and inescapable theme of a spoiled field that was emerging. Or as Goode (2015) suggests, should my findings discuss how spoiled fields develop because the members of a culture disagree with the authenticity of how researchers write about them? Therefore, whose version of reality should prevail, the one provided by the researched or the dominant scholarly version. Was it ethical to ignore a dominant theme because reporting it may upset my peers, and as transpired, make publishing authentic findings difficult?

According to Duncan (2024), having empathy does not mean that I need to agree with my participant’s interpretation of cultural studies/sociology, only that I have the integrity to care about their perspective being represented. Consequently, I employed a blend of three Western and Indigenous discourses as a balanced solution. First, there are ongoing debates in sociology regarding how various branches of the discipline (mis)represent their participants. Therefore, including the participant’s observations merely acknowledged that similar discussions were also occurring outside the academy. For example, Archer (2012) explored whether reflexivity is an innate ability which enables anyone to share stories of their lived experiences, or whether only sociology scholars have the cognitive capacity to talk about the oblivious. Likewise, Rojek and Turner (2001, p. 629) criticize cultural studies researchers for performing “decorative sociology” to present contextless and politicized findings that align with their favoured theory despite the results of empirical data. Similarly, lisahunter (2018) and Wheaton (2002) have echoed the criticisms proffered by Rojek and Turner (2001) and my participants by voicing their concerns about the politicized Western methodological approaches adopted to (mis)represent the diversity of surfers’ lived experiences. Second, Consumer Culture Studies privilege the voices, views and visions of study participants, and value stories co-created with non-consumers (Stern, 1998). Therefore, employing a methodology to co-create data with participants who typically decline interviews is a useful contribution to Consumer Culture Studies, which would be meaningless if a significant rationale for their non-involvement were absent from the findings. Third, the Indigenous paradigm guiding my talk-story expects relational accountability to the participants and denounces attempts to suggest that they do not know what they are talking about notwithstanding whether their opinions upset the powerful or challenge Western worldviews (Walker, 2011; Wilson, 2001).

I employed this balanced solution in an earlier study (Cook, 2022), where I performed talk-story with a female participant who contextualized a male surfer’s comments that I perceived as misogynistic. Our talk-story raised Western epistemological and ontological questions. I was situated in the conversation, but she had lived and holistically interpreted the experience. As Adams et al. (2015) suggest, as a researcher, I cannot decide what is relevant and important to my participants. Furthermore, the notion of a male researcher deciding how a female participant should interpret a lived experience and how her story should be represented is itself misogynistic. Thus, there are questions of ethics and integrity when researchers do not attempt to publish findings that do not align with their theoretical standpoint or values. Consequently, in that case, as here, I presented a transparent narrative of the discussion, but the Indigenous epistemology supporting my participant’s right to authentic representation prevailed.

Presenting and Publishing Authentic Representations

Due to the duration of my educational journey and ethnographies, and constant rejections for publication, various versions of my Scottish surf culture ethnography were presented with wider global representations in my viva voce, at four conferences, four public lectures, and submitted for review by eight sociology/cultural studies journals, before an ethnological evolutionary story was published as a book chapter (see Cook, 2024a). In response to the presentations and submissions, there were examples of perceived constructive criticism. For example, it was suggested that the purpose and findings characterized two distinct studies, an evolutionary story and a consumer culture study, which resulted in a convoluted narrative. Therefore, simplified theoretical frameworks were adopted and two clearly distinct studies were eventually developed.

As discussed earlier, I received verbal consent from a viva voce examiner and peers at conferences and public lectures to include thematic representations of their commentaries in future versions of my ethnography. Anonymous comments hypothetically received from peer reviewers for various sociology journals followed a similar pattern to those received in the viva voce and at conferences, but the interpreted tone ranged from supportive and constructive to co-destructive and enraged. Some reviews suggested that the manuscript was worthy of publication, others that the research question and/or theoretical framework were weak. Indeed, various suggestions were constructive and helped to address the many errors and limitations in various versions of the ethnography manuscripts. I acknowledge that the early presentations and manuscripts deserved a robust, critical, but supportive reviewer response. However, in addition, hypothetical themes emerged which could be perceived as unprofessional, and an example of the aggressive behaviours Howland and Powell Davies (2022) defined as negative ethics. Even a sympathetic interpretation may suggest that the hypothetical comments were contrary to COPE guidance on ethical reviewing.

Earlier studies describe how discriminatory comments are also prevalent at the ERB approval stage (Foote Whyte, 1984; Goode, 2015; Quinn, 2022). Goode (2015) explains that social descriptors, such as race/ethnicity, gender, or sexual orientation, are frequently employed to prevent innovative ethnography. Indeed, Georg Simmel suggested that research should only be performed with and by people who share social descriptors. My interpretation suggests that, hypothetically, discrimination against researchers with social descriptors incompatible with a prejudiced disposition is also exercised in the peer review process to obstruct publication of innovative and/or disruptive ethnography.

Also, contrary to peer reviewer guidance, how does a researcher respond to the hypothetical belittling of publications by other scholars? What if these publications demonstrably do exist and/or were published in peer-reviewed journals? Furthermore, hypothetically, how should researchers respond to negative ethics where the culture and intellect of their study participants are subject to derision? Again, as Adams et al. (2015) suggest, researchers cannot decide what is relevant and important to study participants. Likewise, the talk-story methodology forbids accusations that participants do not understand and cannot explain their own lived experiences (Das et al., 2020; Nishizaki et al., 2019). Therefore, I argue that extensive and diverse participant data should not be disregarded in favour of a powerful individual’s description of lived experiences which are different to the participants. It is this dismissal of other researchers’ publications and participant perspectives that is more problematic when addressing marginalization than personal attacks on a study's author(s).

As Yan (2014) suggests, the perceived demonization of the powerless by the powerful produced an emotional response. I was conflicted. Zakus et al. (2007) explain that researchers have core values that inform their integrity and motivate actions, including deciding what is ethical. The talk-story methodology I had performed expected relational accountability and stipulated that I represent lived experiences as described by my participants, and not through the assumed positionality of a Western lens (Walker, 2011, 2020). Indeed, the Declaration of Helsinki insists that my duty as a researcher is to my participants. Thus, I asked myself, how could I respond when my social descriptors did not fit with the hypothetical peer reviewers’ idealized and discriminatory theoretical stereotypes of who should publish research? What if they were aware that I am a member of the most underrepresented group in the British academy (see Butterick, 2025)? What if my marginalism was as an Indigenous researcher employing an IRM? Furthermore, what if my IRM was performed with Indigenous rather than marginalized participants? Would similar comments be acceptable to the academy? Finally, I wondered, would these hypothetical reviewers make those comments about me and my participants without the protection of de facto anonymity to silence scrutiny of their remarks by the public or those familiar with section 127 of the Communications Act 2003?

Earlier ethical guidance articles (Demant & Moretti, 2024; Goode, 2015; Jerolmack & Murphy, 2017; Swain & King, 2022; Zakus et al., 2007) state that researchers are bound by absolute confidentiality to their participants and that informed consent must be provided to use data. Therefore, I was compelled to ignore part of the ethnographic story; de facto reviewer anonymity ensured that they were not accessible to consent to public discussion of hypothetical attacks on their peers and my participants (Swain & King, 2022). Goode (2015), however, advocates for situational ethics, where context enables a flexible approach where the reader judges the legitimacy of ethical decisions. Similarly, Demant and Moretti (2024) argue that those who share hateful information, even in private, are not vulnerable and are therefore undeserving of the same ethical protections as other participants. The problem is, who decides what is good or bad, ethical or unethical, hateful comments or free speech; these are subjective opinions that vary from one discipline to another (Arjomand, 2022; Demant & Moretti, 2024; Goode, 2015; Howland & Powell Davies, 2022; Yan, 2014).

Consistent with advice in earlier publications (see Fujii, 2014; Levitan et al., 2017; Swain & King, 2022) discussing how to manage the ethics of unforeseen pertinent information, I sought guidance and potential retrospective ethical approval from my ERB to discuss hypothetical hateful comments. I suggested that in my talk-story article examining the silencing and misrepresentation of marginalized perspectives, “there is a compelling, ethical need to share” (Levitan et al., 2017, p. 348), destructive themes and direct quotes as illustrative examples to publicly discuss participant expectations that they were being denied authentic representation. Similar to Demant and Moretti (2024), we discussed what constituted private and public communications. I explained that earlier studies advocate circumventing established ethical principles in some situations (Demant & Moretti, 2024; Goode, 2015; Jerolmack & Murphy, 2017). Eventually, a compromise emerged that enabled me to discuss hypothetical negative ethics and the role of reviewers as gatekeepers, but to do so within my existing ethical approval and without revealing private communications. The hypothetical peer reviewer comments could be considered part of my self-reflexive narrative and interpretive strategy recounting how I sought authentic representation for my participants; however, I could not use additional/new themes or direct quotes from the hypothetical journal peer reviewers. The hypothetical journal peer reviewer comments must be paraphrased for analysis, and only themes that corresponded with those I had verbal consent from the examiner and peer reviewers at conferences could be included; therefore, any other themes and quotes only attributable to the hypothetical journal peer reviewers must be and were omitted. Although, this made the addition of the hypothetical journal peer reviewer themes inconsequential, their inclusion did inform the tone of the narrative and permitted contextual information on how those in power can suppress challenging discussions.

Consequently, I created Composite Character Narratives (Arjomand, 2022) in the form of a fictitious/hypothetical peer reviewer to facilitate the presentation of hybrid factual/hypothetical information from multiple sources. Composite character narratives are a form of empirical fiction or masking, typically employed in sociology and ethnography, where several people are morphed into one hypothetical/representative character form to preserve confidentiality (Arjomand, 2022; Jerolmack & Murphy, 2017; Riessman, 2008). This approach served four purposes. First, it simplified a complex narrative of comments across time, geographical locations, conferences, and journals. Second, it further protected the conference reviewer’s anonymity. Third, despite the presentation of hybrid factual/hypothetical information, the narrative would survive scrutiny by the reviewers. Finally, even if the hypothetical journal peer reviewers could be contacted and withdrew their consent, the composite themes and composite character of a journal peer reviewer would be unaffected because only the hypothetical comments that could be interwoven with those from consenting conference peer reviewers were included. Accordingly, in the talk-story article (Cook, 2023), I only reported themes that I had consent to use and omitted all other examples of perceived negative ethics from the narrative. Consistent with the Singapore Statement on Research Integrity, ideally, as a professional courtesy, the hypothetical journal peer reviewers would have been informed that the tone and context of their anonymized and censored themes had informed my composite character narratives. However, this was impossible due to the confidentiality and de facto anonymity inherent in the peer review process.

It is this level of confidentiality and de facto anonymity which would have ensured that the direct quotes and new negative ethics themes could have been publicly discussed without the hypothetical journal peer reviewers experiencing risk and/or harm; thus, complying with the aim of research ethics guidance. Nonetheless, the perceived victimization of my participants and the silencing of those with forms of social descriptors demonized in culture wars could be hinted at in the composite character narratives, but direct quotes as exemplifications of negative ethics could not be used. Ironically, ethics processes designed to protect the silenced or misrepresented from harm denied my participants’ full disclosure but protected the powerful co-destructive peer reviewers.

Solving the Negative Ethics of Co-Destructive Peer Review Processes

The purpose of this hybrid factual/hypothetical story analysis is to contribute to the debate on ethical research, power imbalances, and relational accountability. I explained how, until the ethical processes specific to talk-story are established, I complied with Western ERB requirements throughout the data and findings co-creation. I discussed constructive peer reviewer feedback, which was intended to support publishing the manuscript elsewhere or to guide my research interests. I then explored hypothetical negative ethics in the peer review process, which could be employed to silence challenging narratives co-created with the marginalized. In this hypothetical context, personal criticisms were interpreted as thoughtless and unhelpful. For example, in this hypothetical illustration, how could I respond to criticisms of my ethnic origin, race, nationality, gender, or sexual orientation? I cannot easily alter these social descriptors to facilitate peer reviewer prejudice in future reviews. Furthermore, if these social descriptors were irrelevant to the consenting participants, why are they a concern for peer reviewers? My response was to perform talk-story, an IRM that circumvents the preoccupation with positionality in Western cultural studies by co-creating mutually beneficial solutions to address a specific problem as equals. However, performing an IRM does not fully resolve the potential for concerns with negative ethics in the peer review process.

To find meaning in the participants’ perceptions and my hybrid factual/hypothetical experiences, I suggest that peer reviewers can act unethically, without empathy or accountability to the researched, but with disciplinary integrity. As White and Tengan (2001, p. 387) explain, in a struggle over researcher authority and integrity, cultural studies scholars adopt the role of “policing disciplinary borders and otherwise adjudicating what kinds of work count as valid research”. Consequently, Rojek and Turner (2001) explain that decorative sociologists who perform cultural studies will defend their preferred theorist’s standpoint regardless of context or the empirical evidence of lived experience that challenges it. For instance, Lewis (1998) critiques Fiske for studying surfing from a distance to support contextless theoretical meanings, rather than engaging with surfers to co-create actual meanings; an example of research done to rather than done with surfers.

To address the privileging of detached theoretical meanings and enhance representational accountability, Wheaton and Olive (2023) suggest that researchers should emphasise the positionality of them-versus-us differences when co-creating data with marginalised surfers. Candidly, Wheaton and Olive (2023) confessed that their privileged backgrounds had previously informed their assumptions, motivations, and values, thus limiting their worldviews and familiarity with the meanings made by surfing’s marginalized groups. Although Wheaton and Olive’s (2023) positionality approach progresses beyond the detached theoretical standpoint adopted in decorative sociology, it is in direct contrast to the relational paradigm fundamental to IRM, where the researched and the researcher ignore social descriptors to seek commonalities and relational meanings. Thus, despite their virtuous intentions, Wheaton and Olive’s (2023) intersectional reflexivity approach may invite the peer reviewer identity politics biases and unethical behaviours, discussed hypothetically throughout this article. Nonetheless, Wheaton and Olive’s (2023) continual assertions that multiple worldviews exist and are valid co-creations is a cause for optimism. If cultural studies researchers and peer reviewers embrace the notion that all marginalized worldviews are valuable and meaningful, there is hope that previously silenced groups and their stories will begin to find authentic representation regardless of the disciplinary approach, methodology adopted and/or the researchers’ social descriptor. Furthermore, the continual publication of progressive methodological articles by leading figures in surf culture research, such as Wheaton and Olive (2023), explaining the benefits of co-creating data with marginalized groups and/or performing relational IRM, combined with the “arrival of indigenous scholars in the halls of the academy and in the pages of major books and journals” (White & Tengan, 2001, p. 399), will eventually enhance the diversity of the peer reviewer collective.

The issues raised in this article require public debate and a solution beyond my perceptions and the hybrid factual/hypothetical self-censored narrative I have had to adopt to comply with ethical constraints. I suggest that ERB relational accountability must be skewed towards the researched and the researcher rather than peer reviewers; therefore, journals and ERB must facilitate public discussion of whether research participants’ perceptions that they are being silenced and/or marginalized are justified. The marginalized and/or silenced need to witness that researchers are advocating on their behalf, and that discussions on how to provide authentic and ethical representation are happening beyond the corridors and faculty clubs of the academy. Indeed, the publication of this article is a vital step in publicly challenging the negative ethics of a minority of peer reviewers.

The de facto anonymity of the review process makes obtaining consent for an informed debate impossible. Having experienced unethical reviews, Pownall (2025) suggests a passive solution that peer reviewers follow best practice principles of pedagogic feedback by using a rubric and focusing on supportive feed-forward. However, these suggestions merely replicate existing guidelines. Consequently, I present two possible active solutions to improve the peer review process. First, I would advocate bi-directional feedback between the reviewer and the author to humanise the interaction and to provide the type of contextual insight frequently lacking in the current process. This would remind us as peer reviewers that, findings may challenge our worldview, the researcher’s social descriptors may not fit our idealized preferences, or the manuscript may require significant improvements for publication elsewhere, however the narrative under review may provide self-silenced and/or marginalized groups with their only opportunity for authentic representation in an academic study. Therefore, if we cannot be supportive of our colleagues, we have a moral and ethical duty to demonstrate empathy for research study participants. Second, to facilitate equitable debate in open peer review processes, for rejected manuscripts the one-party consent rule employed in the majority of American states could offer a potential solution. The one-party consent rule permits the disclosure of a communication if it is perceived to include harmful content or if its discussion is in the public interest. All peer reviewers who comply with COPE guidelines would have nothing to fear from this level of scrutiny, nor would co-destructive reviewers. If the one-party consent rule were implemented, I do not advocate naming reviewers or journals; de facto anonymity should be preserved to enable contentious free speech to continue. Instead, directly quoting from the source would eliminate the need for hypothetical narratives, remove ambiguity and provide reviewers with an opportunity to inform the discussion on how research should be performed and who should publish it; thus, advancing the debate on why some voices are silenced and why this is tolerated. This level of public scrutiny may improve the quality of reviews and reviewers without exposing peer reviewers to risk or harm. However, adopting the one-party consent rule requires universal ERB and journal acceptance of the situational approach to ethics and informed consent advocated in earlier studies (Demant & Moretti, 2024; Foote Whyte, 1984; Goode, 2015; Jerolmack & Murphy, 2017; Swain & King, 2022; Zakus et al., 2007). The limitation of this solution is that it requires powerful peer reviewers to permit a critique of other anonymous peer reviewers to be published.

As a convert to talk-story and the benefits of an Indigenous paradigm, I am hopeful that identity politics assumptions used to deny the talk-story methodology’s participants authentic representation will gradually diminish. I hope that, eventually, by publicly debating peer reviewers’ negative ethics using real-world examples, fields will no longer be spoiled. By embracing the relational paradigm of an IRM, I am optimistic that the empathy required to support alternative worldviews will become the norm and marginalized and/or silenced participants or those who collaborate with them will be unshackled. Consequently, co-created findings from IRM, including talk-story, will be published regardless of whether they challenge the dogmatic worldviews of a few powerful reviewers.

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