Abstract
In the spirit of America’s Shakespeare, August Wilson (1997), I have written this article as a testimony to the conditions under which I, and too many others, engage in scholarly discourse. I hope to make clear from the beginning that although the ideas presented here are not entirely my own—as they have been inherited from the minority of scholars who dared and managed to bring the most necessary, unpalatable, and unsettling truths about our discipline to the broader scientific community—I do not write for anyone but myself and those scholars who have felt similarly marginalized, oppressed, and silenced. And I write as a race scholar, meaning simply that I believe that race—and racism—affects the sociopolitical conditions in which humans, and scholars, develop their thoughts, feelings, and actions. I believe that it is important for all scholars to have a basic understanding of these conditions, as well as the landmines and pitfalls that define them, as they shape how research is conducted, reviewed, and disseminated. I also believe that to evolve one’s discipline into one that is truly robust and objective, it must first become diverse and self-aware. Any effort to suggest otherwise, no matter how scholarly it might present itself, is intellectually unsound.
Publisher’s Note
This article is part of a collection of articles related to the December 2022 APS Vote of No Confidence in the Editor-in-Chief of Perspectives on Psychological Science. Please see the editorial [https://doi.org/10.1177/17456916241246556] in this issue for further details on the collection.
The true tale of the lion hunt will never be told as long as the hunter tells the story.
I am mindful of the cliché that a collection of anecdotes, such as those presented in the following summary, does not constitute reliable data. However, when the issue at hand is whether or not ideology can be kept separate from the production and reporting of scientific research, I believe that anecdotal evidence can be “fruitful and enlightening” and that it is, therefore, a necessary part of a debate.
A Case Study
Some time ago, I was invited to participate in a scientific debate on diversity. The debate was organized by the editor-in-chief of Perspectives on Psychological Science, Klaus Fiedler, and it focused on an article of mine entitled “Racial Inequality in Psychological Research: Trends of the Past and Recommendations for the Future” (Roberts et al., 2020). In short, we analyzed over 26,000 articles published between 1974 and 2018 in top-tier psychology journals and found that in addition to most articles being edited and authored by White psychologists, White editors were less likely than editors of color to publish research articles about race, and White authors were less likely than authors of color to conduct research with samples of color. In an effort to diversify and expand the intellectual reach of psychology, we included several recommendations to the field (e.g., journals could include diverse individuals across all levels of the publication process and merit participant diversity in the review process; authors could detail and justify the demographics of their samples and make clear the extent to which their conclusions generalize across samples).
The initial critique of Roberts et al. (2020) that sparked the debate on diversity was entitled “Dealing with Diversity in Psychology: Science or Ideology?” with Bernard Hommel as contact author and Editor Fiedler as editor. The central premise of the critique was that Roberts et al. (2020) “showed worrying signs of ideological thinking and activism that has made its way into science” and that “uncritically accepting and introducing political activist arguments into science is likely to damage scientific freedom and independence” (Hommel, this issue). Editor Fiedler invited three reviewers to evaluate the Hommel critique, and after expressing positivity toward their reviews, he decided to publish their reviews as additional comments and without having those comments be peer reviewed.
This resulted in the publication of the Hommel critique, plus three additional critiques by Lee Jussim, Keith Stanovich, and Wolfgang Stroebe (i.e., the reviewers of the Hommel critique). In their critiques, they expressed (a) that Roberts et al. (2020) “reflects much of what is currently wrong with academia” and is “an almost surreal mixture of ideologically infused anti-racist activism in science” (Jussim, this issue), (b) that the recommendations put forth by Roberts et al. (2020) will “cause an exodus from our discipline among those who value ideas over demographics” that will “harm our science” (Stanovich, this issue), and (c) that the “need for diversity among subjects in theory-testing research” is a “myth” (Stroebe, this issue). Of course, there are more layers to the criticisms, and I return to them below in detail, but for now, I brush here with broad strokes simply to make clear the professional and editorial conditions of this diversity forum. Namely, Editor Fiedler, after having made clear that he favored the reviews, chose to amplify the core message of the Hommel critique by inviting the three reviewers of that critique to emend their reviews and submit them as additional critiques, again, without additional peer review. He then chose to package those four critiques and present them as a debate about diversity. And it would be disingenuous of me to not point out that Hommel, Jussim, Stanovich, and Stroebe, along with Editor Fiedler, are all senior White men.
As the structure of the diversity forum was revealed to me, I expressed my concern that it was unbalanced. That is, I was concerned that Hommel was given two opportunities to comment, whereas I was only given one, and that I would be the only one of five debaters in a position to defend the rather long list of accusations made against me and my research group, which placed me in the clear minority position. I proposed a solution to make the debate more democratic (e.g., by giving Hommel and me equal opportunities to comment), but that proposal was denied by Editor Fiedler.
I remained concerned that the debate was unbalanced and felt that it was practically impossible for me alone, in a single commentary, to respond to the long list of claims and accusations put forth by Hommel, Jussim, Stanovich, and Stroebe. And to be clear, as I address in detail below, these accusations were collectively unsound, unscientific, ad hominem, and racist. Nevertheless, because I believed in the merits of scientific debate and because I desired to be a good citizen of the scientific community, I decided to submit a commentary to the diversity forum. After all, it was my research that was being criticized by four other scholars, and I thought it my scientific duty to respond to those critics in a scientific forum.
I emailed my commentary to Editor Fiedler, copying the peer review manager for the Association for Psychological Science, and then submitted it formally via the submission portal. When doing so, I reminded Editor Fiedler of his guarantee that no further reviews would be solicited because my submission was an invited response to criticisms of my work. However, when Editor Fiedler responded to my submission, this time outside of the formal journal portal, he copied Hommel and informed me that he sent my submission to Hommel and that I had to respond to a long list of Hommel’s complaints. Note that I never consented to my submission being shared with Hommel and that my submission was explicitly classified by the journal as for review only. It was therefore inappropriate for Editor Fiedler to send me a private email outside of the formal journal portal, stating that before he could accept my commentary I had to respond to complaints from a nonreviewer on my submission that was meant only for review.
In case the conditions that I am describing are still not clear, let me put them plainly. In a scientific debate—and certainly in a scientific debate on diversity—there should be balanced discussion and clear separation between the editors, reviewers, and debaters. However, those are not the conditions under which I was expected to participate. Editor Fiedler (a) identified favorable reviewers for the initial Hommel critique of Roberts et al. (2020), (b) invited those reviewers to revise their reviews and submit them as additional critiques, (c) intended to publish those critiques without peer review, (d) packaged those critiques as a scientific debate on diversity, (e) employed Hommel as the final authority to evaluate my critique of his critique of my research, (f) shared my commentary with Hommel without my consent, and, finally, (g) requested that I respond to the complaints raised by Hommel, who already characterized my research as a “toxic mix of science and ideology” (Hommel, this issue). If nothing else, this strikes me as insufficient handling of conflict of interest in the review process and a clear violation of professional ethics.
And it is precisely under such conditions that many scientists must manage to disseminate their research, and why many have no choice but to disseminate their ideas outside of the mainstream. As I and others have long argued (e.g., Buchanan et al., 2021; Graham, 1992; Guthrie, 1974/2004; Jones, 2023; Roberts et al., 2020; Settles et al., 2021; West, 2001), systemic racism exists in science. There is a racialized power structure that marginalizes research by (and about) people of color. This case study demonstrates an intellectual echo chamber in which a single worldview held by the majority group (in this case, the editor, reviewers, and authors) formalizes itself in the permanent scientific record under the guise of a scientific debate. That single worldview is then used as the scientific metric by which to evaluate opposing worldviews and to then accuse those opposing worldviews of being ideologically motivated and unscientific. By definition, then, what counts as “good” science is what only aligns with the ideological needs of the dominant group (see West, 2001).
This is why diversity is necessary. Without it, the epistemologies of the marginalized will remain filtered through systems of epistemic violence, aggression, and silencing (Dotson, 2011; Johnson et al., 2021; Ohito, 2020; Settles et al., 2021; Veldhuis, 2022). It is time for psychological science to acknowledge that editors, as well as reviewers and authors, are in an epistemological gatekeeping position from which to govern what is (and what is not) worthy of publication (see Roberts et al., 2020). And given that editors are human beings with their own ideologies and assumptions, it is only natural that those ideologies and assumptions shape their attitudes toward science, from determining which ideas are scientific and which are ideological, to determining which ideas to amplify and which to silence (Jasanoff, 2018). Ultimately, I hope the present case study makes even clearer what the marginalized have known, and felt, for too long. These are not the conditions of a healthy, productive, and open-minded discipline. And the fact that these conditions exist in one of the most visible journals in psychology, one that prides itself for being a member of the Committee on Publication Ethics, should raise questions as to the conditions under which race scholars, especially junior race scholars of color, must manage to disseminate their research and advance their academic careers.
Below, I provide my complete and unedited response to the claims put forth by Hommel, Jussim, Stanovich, and Stroebe. In doing so, I hope to move beyond the particulars of this collection of anecdotes to address the broader, but not unrelated, ways in which science and ideologies intertwine.
Overview
Hommel (this issue) questions whether dealing with diversity in psychology is a matter of science or ideology. The short answer is that it is both.
This article progresses in two major parts. The first focuses on science (i.e., a system of knowledge obtained and tested through the scientific method). It reviews the research on how science has been and continues to be colored by ideology. The second focuses on ideology (i.e., a manner or content of thinking characteristic of an individual, group, or culture). It addresses the worry that scientific discourse around diversity has been ideological and not scientific. Admittedly, both parts focus on science and ideology, as the two go hand in hand, and both lead to the same conclusion; if we are to deepen and expand the conceptual reach of our science, and to evolve our science into one that is truly objective and generalizable, we must open ourselves to ideologies other than our own, and to examining our own ideologies. Because if we assume that we have no ideology, or that our own ideology can see everything across all space and time, our entire science will be colored by that ideology, and not only we will be unable to see that there are more colors in the world than just one, we might even become hostile toward any efforts to suggest that we are wrong.
Science (and Ideology)
Since the beginning, dealing with diversity in psychological science has been an ideological affair. From pseudoscientific efforts to “prove” the superiority of White people to presenting research findings with White participants as if they were generalizable to all of humanity, how diversity is dealt with in psychology both reflects and affects the ideologies of psychologists (Buchanan et al., 2021; Jones, 2010; Winston, 2020). And why should we expect otherwise? After all, psychologists are human beings, and research makes clear that ideological biases affect how human beings think about diversity (Allport, 1954; Richeson & Sommers, 2016). For example, when members of the racial majority anticipate increases in racial diversity, they often fear that their social status is under threat, which can trigger pro-in-group and anti-out-group reactions (e.g., stronger racial identification, increased racial resentment, decreased support for racial diversity; Craig et al., 2018).
To ensure that psychological science is not limited by any particular ideology, especially given that diverse researchers, methods, and participants are important for scientific innovation, replicability, and generalizability (Hofstra et al., 2020; Medin et al., 2017; Rozin, 2009), psychological scientists have for decades documented the shortcomings of a discipline that lacks cultural diversity, gender diversity, geographic diversity, political diversity, racial diversity, and more (e.g., Arnett, 2008; Betancourt & López, 1993; Buchanan et al., 2021; Cole, 2009; Duarte et al., 2015; Dunham & Olson, 2016; Dupree & Boykin, 2021; Dupree & Kraus, 2021; Henrich et al., 2010; Honeycutt & Jussim, 2020; Lin & Li, 2023a, 2023b; Markus & Kitayama, 1991; Nielsen et al., 2017; Rowley & Camacho, 2015; Schmader, 2023; Wang, 2016). And in the specific domain of racial diversity, psychological scientists have documented such shortcomings for decades.
Nearly half a century ago, Guthrie (1976/2004) observed that “even the rat was White,” detailing how even the smallest details in mainstream psychological science are White-centric (e.g., from research methods being “standardized” exclusively by and with White people to reifying racial differences by erroneously conceptualizing racial categories as animal breeds and the “White breed” as the most evolved one of them; see also Gould, 1981). Graham (1992) documented how the vast majority of research articles in mainstream psychology journals focused on White participants and that the few articles that included Black participants did so simply to compare them to White people—a heavily critiqued “racial comparative” approach that ignores within-group variation and reinforces racial stereotyping (see also Azibo, 1988; Hartmann et al., 2013). Buchanan et al. (2021) offered an overview of how this comparative approach persists today and described how a discipline that lacks racial diversity is limited in how it conducts, reports, and reviews empirical research. For example, in a discipline with mostly White editors, reviewers, authors, and participants, research with participants of color is often required to include a White comparison group, state the racial identity of the participants in the manuscript title, justify the racial identity of the participants, and constrain any claims about generalizability, whereas these standards are rarely applied to research with White participants. Consequently, if mainstream psychology continues to privilege the perspectives of White scientists and participants, it will not incentivize, cite, or reward research by or with people of color (Camacho & Echelbarger, 2021; Syed, 2017).
My own research team has investigated how racial diversity affects psychological scientists and their science. In the one study that was commented on by Hommel (this issue), Jussim (this issue), Stanovich (this issue), and Stroebe (this issue), we analyzed over 26,000 articles published between 1974 and 2018 in the highest impact cognitive, developmental, and social psychology journals and found that (a) most editors were White, (b) under White editors compared with under editors of color there were significantly fewer articles that focused on race, (c) the few articles that did focus on race were most often written by White psychologists, and (d) White psychologists, unlike psychologists of color, conducted research mostly with White participants (see also Hartmann et al., 2013; Jones, 1983). In a subsequently preregistered experiment, we found that one reason there might be fewer articles on race under nondiverse editorial boards is that those editorial boards signal to race scholars (but not to nonrace scholars) that their research is not valuable and that they should submit their research to another journal for publication (Auelua-Toomey & Roberts, 2022). Ultimately, this process could reinforce racial inequalities by signaling who (and what) is (and is not) published in the field’s most visible and impactful journals (i.e., it is not that race scholars do not want to publish in these journals but that the lack of racial diversity within those journals signals to them that they should not even try). Critically, under diverse editorial boards, we found no significant differences between how race scholars and nonrace scholars perceived the journals. Rather, both groups had more positive perceptions of the journal, suggesting that diverse editorial boards benefit both race scholars and nonrace scholars alike.
We also examined how psychological scientists write about their samples and how that writing might reflect and reinforce racial ideologies. In an archival analysis, we found that articles with mostly White participants, but not articles with mostly participants of color, rarely mentioned the racial demographics of the participants in the article titles (Roberts & Mortenson, 2023; see also Cheon et al., 2020). For example, articles with White participants had titles that generalized their findings to all of humanity (e.g., “Do Infants Show Social Preferences for People Differing in Race?”), whereas articles with participants of color had titles that constrained the generalizability of their findings to the participants’ demographic group (e.g., “Are Asians forgetful? Perception, Retention, and Recall in Episodic Memory”). Research suggests that this imbalance in scientific communication can reinforce the belief that research with White participants is more valuable than research with participants of color (DeJesus et al., 2019). We theorized that the tendency to mark research with participants of color in article titles is rooted in a deeper conception of White people as nonracial (i.e., a “White = neutral” framework; Roberts & Mortenson, 2023). Indeed, in a series of preregistered experiments, we found that when psychology PhD students were presented with research that was conducted with White participants (vs. with participants of color), and subsequently asked to generate research titles, keywords, and summaries about that research, they were significantly less likely to mention the race of the participants when the participants were White (Auelua-Toomey et al., in press). But when we instructed PhD students to mention (or to not mention) the participants’ demographics in their writing, we found that they mentioned the participants’ demographics at equally high (or low) rates. And when we asked the PhD students if they would support a new policy that would require researchers to mention the racial demographics of their participants in their scientific communication, they showed high levels of support, suggesting that the next generation of psychological scientists might support new scientific standards to undo racial inequalities in scientific communication. Here is one illustrative quote from a PhD student asked to share their thoughts on such a policy:
I would endorse the institution of this policy. The ways in which we produce scientific literature in this field should be standardized and normed, and that applies to article titles. To only mention the race of participants when it refers to those who are not White is to suggest that Whiteness is the default, and this seeks to perpetuate the continued marginalization of people of color, all the while effectively un-racing folks who are White. Small changes like this could seek to ameliorate systemic racism and oppression, but I think it is challenging for academics to even acknowledge the many ways in which we contribute to such systems.
Indeed, it is challenging for academics to acknowledge the many ways in which we contribute to such systems, as doing so would suggest that we need new scientific norms (e.g., ensuring that we do not selectively present research findings with some samples as more generalizable or valuable than others), incentive structures (e.g., rewarding scientists who do not rely on traditional or easy-to-reach demographic groups), and greater diversity (e.g., ensuring that the editors, reviewers, authors, and participants are not all primarily from one social group). Of course, these need not be challenges. They can instead be opportunities to evolve our science into one that is more comprehensive, nuanced, and self-aware (Stewart & Valian, 2018).
Ideology (and Science)
Calls for increased racial diversity in psychological science have not been without criticism. The most recent are made by Hommel (this issue), Jussim (this issue), Stanovich (this issue), and Stroebe (this issue), who collectively argue that scientific discourse around diversity has been ideological and not scientific. Hommel (this issue) summarizes the claims:
The increasing use of political activist arguments and reasoning in scientific communication about diversity is criticized. Based on an article of Roberts, Bareket-Shavit, Dollins, Goldie, and Mortenson (2020) . . . three hallmarks of the intrusion of activist thinking into science are described: (1) blindness to the multidimensional nature of diversity, (2) a failure to distinguish mechanisms from effect moderators, and (3) blindness to agency as an explanation for psychological observations.
I next consider the scientific merit of these claims.
“Blindness to the multidimensional nature of diversity”
The claim is that Roberts et al. (2020) neglected the many other social identities that have implications for human behavior and that they were unjustified in focusing exclusively on race (see Hommel, this issue; Jussim, this issue; Stanovich, this issue). Hommel (this issue) writes:
The call for diversity was restricted to just one of more than 100 possible personal features of already demonstrated psychological relevance. If we are to report the race of editors, reviewers, authors, and participants, as Roberts et al. demand, it seems logical to also demand reporting their cultural, religious, and economic background; their political orientation, intelligence, and motivational structure; their needs, learning history, experience, and personality and traits; their body size, handedness, disabilities, and cognitive style; in addition to tens if not hundreds of other personal features that might have affected the measures of interest in past studies.
This claim is false. Roberts et al. (2020) made clear that psychological science needs diversity across a wide array of domains and took care to not privilege race as an independent or primary vector of analysis:
Although race was the focus in this research, intersectionality is also vital to a healthy and representative science (e.g., persons representing a wide range of gender, political, religious, and sexual identities). For example, it could be made clear in the positionality statement that the research question concerns gender yet the research team consists only of individuals who identify as male, or that the research participants are members of the LGBTQ community yet the research team consists only of individuals who identify as heterosexual and cisgender. If the researchers are making claims about any social identity, their relationship with that identity could be stated. (p. 1305)
This claim also misrepresents Roberts et al. (2020). As made clear in the quote above, the argument is that if a research topic is about a particular identity (e.g., race, sexual orientation, political attitudes), researchers could make their relationship to that identity clear. If, for example, the research topic involves people of color, but all of the researchers are White, readers might benefit from this information being made transparent, especially given the scientific benefits of conducting research with people rather than on them (see Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995).
Another issue with this claim is that it suggests that if one does not study everything one cannot study anything, which is unsound and unproductive. Scientists must distinguish processes that generalize across domains (e.g., no matter their identity, researchers from minority identities might feel a lower sense of belonging in academia; Cheryan et al., 2009) from those that are more domain-specific (e.g., in the domain of political identity, in a left-leaning discipline that favors left-leaning research, conservative professors might be discouraged from researching politicized topics; Honeycutt & Jussim, 2020). Stated another way, processes that generalize across domains are distinct from processes that are local to specific domains.
“Failure to distinguish mechanisms from effect moderators”
The claim is that Roberts et al. (2020) failed to acknowledge that the mechanisms underlying psychological processes generalize to all of humanity and that research designed to test such processes does not require diverse or representative samples (see Hommel, this issue; Stanovich, this issue; Stroebe, this issue).
The first issue with this claim is that what it assumes to be true is itself an empirical question. That is, to make scientific claims about the generalizability of psychological processes, one must scientifically demonstrate that they do in fact generalize, and scientists have for decades argued that the psychological processes assumed to be basic, universal, or generalizable (e.g., moral reasoning, memory recall, spatial cognition, visual perception) are in fact subject to social and cultural variation (e.g., Arnett, 2008; Henrich et al., 2010; Markus & Kitayama, 1991; Wang, 2016). Indeed, there is a long tradition of research revealing how our perceptions of the world are filtered through specific social experiences and motivations (Heider, 1944; Ross, 1977). Context matters, and race is a salient context. If our science focused exclusively on the few mechanisms that generalize to all of humanity rather than the infinite universe of mechanisms that vary within and between contexts, we would be left with a paltry science.
The second issue with this claim is that it neglects the scientific evidence suggesting that because of racial biases, scientists of all racial backgrounds might conceptualize research with White samples as more generalizable and valuable than research with samples of color (Cheon et al., 2020; DeJesus et al., 2019; Roberts & Mortenson, 2023). Consequently, researchers might be uninterested in (or dissuaded from) conducting research with samples of color, examining or specifying the role of White identity in psychological processes, or challenging the norms that maintain the presumed racelessness of White people, all of which would reinforce the idea that studying White people is sufficient for studying humans (see Roberts & Mortenson, 2023).
The third issue with this claim is that it assumes that diverse participants are useful simply for providing insight into the generalizability of psychological processes, but this misses the “other” perspective entirely. Namely, if mainstream psychological science consists mostly of White editors, reviewers, authors, and participants, it might not even think to explore processes that are outside of the perspectives, experiences, or interests of White scientists (e.g., how to diversify a White-centric discipline, or how to circumvent dehumanization and racial obstacles), which would leave those processes in place and invisible to the benefit of White people and the detriment of people of color. Indeed, a homogeneous group of scientists might be unable to understand processes outside of their purview, especially if the reason for their homogeneity is a motivation, either unconscious or not, to keep those processes out of their purview. Stated another way, if a group of all-White scientists does not even acknowledge that they are all White, they might become opposed to any efforts toward racial diversity because such efforts would break their collective illusion and force them to acknowledge that they are in fact all White.
“Blindness to agency”
The claim is that intentions and individual preferences, rather than circumstances and systemic obstacles, might play a role in the underrepresentation of people of color in positions of influence in science and that Roberts et al. (2020) neglected the former possibility and focused exclusively on the latter. This supposed “blindness” is interpreted as further evidence of the authors’ ideological biases and political activism (see Hommel, this issue; Jussim, this issue; Stanovich, this issue).
The primary issue with this claim is that it reflects a lack of understanding of the basic fundamentals surrounding race and racism. That is, if one does not recognize the systemic barriers that might cause the underrepresentation of people of color in positions of influence, one might naively assume that people of color are the sole cause of their underrepresentation rather than the systemic barriers that they are subject to (see Cimpian & Salomon, 2014; Nelson et al., 2012). And research makes clear that those barriers are abundant (Jones, 2023; Salter et al., 2018). To name a few, for scientists of color to ascend to positions of influence in science, they must overcome the stereotypes that dissociate them from leadership, pay the “minority tax” that disproportionately burdens them and stifles their research progress, and navigate a White-centric discipline that leaves them with few mentors, signals that they have no future within the discipline, and displays open hostility toward any efforts to make science more diverse (Auelua-Toomey & Roberts, 2022; Avery et al., 2013; Campbell & Rodríguez, 2019; Marin-Spiotta et al, 2020; Purdie-Vaughns et al., 2008; Storage et al., 2016). Unless one presents evidence for the claim that people of color are uninterested in positions of influence in science, the null hypothesis should hold: All racial groups are equally interested in positions of influence, regardless of the field, assuming that the field is equally hospitable to all racial groups.
Other claims worth addressing
It is beyond the scope of this single article to address every concern raised in this discussion forum, in part because they range from unsound and unfalsifiable arguments to arguments that suggest an inadequate grasp of the scientific literature on race and racism. However, I focus below on the scientific merit of three additional claims that I ought not leave unaddressed in the permanent scientific record.
Base rates
The claim is that Roberts et al. (2020) failed to consider base rates, such that the representation of White editors and authors might simply reflect the representation of White people in the contexts in which those data were sampled (see Hommel, this issue; Jussim, this issue). I agree, but this is irrelevant to the bigger argument.
First, how might accounting for base rates change the conclusions that an editor’s racial identity predicted the content of the articles, or that White authors were more common in the general journals and less common in the specialty journals? Second, this claim neglects the reality that Roberts et al. (2020) analyzed journals that generalized themselves to all of humanity (e.g., the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology did not advertise itself as the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology in the United States of America). Even if the editors, authors, and participants involved with the articles published in such a journal numerically represented the demographic groups from the specific geographical, socioeconomic, and institutional contexts in which those journals were located, one would not be justified in presenting the findings published in those journals as generalizable to all of humanity (see Cheon et al., 2020; Roberts & Mortenson, 2023). Relatedly, most editors at top psychology journals are not only White but also male and from the United States (Lin & Li, 2023a, 2023b). How might base rates account for this? Third, this claim neglects the possibility that the representation of White editors and authors is self-populating (i.e., to the extent to which White psychologists interact primarily with other White psychologists, they might selectively invite other White psychologists to such positions; Ibarra, 1995; Wimmer & Lewis, 2010).
Selective data
The claim is that Roberts et al. (2020) made unclear or arbitrary methodological decisions, such that they focused exclusively on North American and European journals, and that it is therefore trivial that the editors, authors, and participants are primarily from those regions (see Hommel, this issue; Jussim, this issue; Stanovich, this issue).
Roberts et al. (2020) focused on these journals because they were the highest impact journals within each discipline. The goal was to survey the “top” psychology journals, not all journals. Roberts et al. (2020) stated this explicitly: “We queried two journals within each area to permit generalizations across areas (cognitive, developmental, social), and we selected these journals because they have been in continual publication over the past five decades and are among the most prestigious in their subfields” (p. 1297).
Further, my response to the “base rates” argument applies here as well (e.g., how does this affect the finding that the identity of the editor predicted the topic of study, or that these North American and European journals generalized themselves to all of humanity?).
Mules and horses
Jussim (this issue) writes:
To be sure, if some psychologists in some fields wish to devote extra effort and attention to samples of color, I have no objection. Special attention to samples of color deserves a place in psychological science. Let’s not pretend, however, that such samples are somehow inherently scientifically more rigorous than ones that more closely approximate the demographics of the underlying population. Scientists who wish to plow their fields with mules should be permitted to do so; they should not, however, pretend that those mules are horses or suggest that, unless others give up their horses, they are doing something scientifically suboptimal.
I will grant Jussim (this issue) the benefit of the doubt and assume that he chose this “mules vs. horses” metaphor to advance the argument that studying one form of diversity (e.g., racial diversity) is not as complete as studying all forms of diversity. However, this metaphor is scientifically not necessary to advance that argument, and it is startling because it explicitly parallels people of color with mules (i.e., the sterile offspring of a horse and a donkey), which is a well-documented racist trope used to dehumanize people of color. As one historian put it, “mules and African Americans shared close ties in the minds of white southerners,” who conceptualized and portrayed them both as unintelligent, inefficient, and inferior “beasts of burden” that belonged in the field and away from their masters (Ellenberg, 1998, p. 387). Again, I grant Jussim (this issue) the benefit of the doubt, but given the present question of the intersection between ideology and science, it is important to make crystal clear that the scientific consensus is that racial categories are social categories, not animal categories, and that conceptualizing racial categories as if they were animal categories is an essentialist worldview that predicts (and is predicted by) stereotyping, prejudice, and discrimination and a decreased interest in contact with individuals from diverse racial backgrounds (Haslam et al., 2000; Mandalaywala et al., 2018; Williams & Eberhardt, 2008). Depicting people of color as mules is a historically outdated, inaccurate, and dangerous concept that reflects and reinforces the belief that White people are better, purer, and more productive (Davis, 1991; Ellenberg, 1998; Roberts et al., 2022). People of color are not mules, and they are no longer required to plow fields. They should not require special attention or extra effort from some psychologists in some fields. People of color deserve the same amount of attention and effort as White people, and they deserve to be represented across the entirety of our science as full human beings.
Conclusion
In a scientific debate about diversity, scientific arguments should not be presented without evidence (e.g., claiming that political activist arguments are increasing in science), as doing so shifts the burden of proof to the reader and pretends that the claims are established facts (burden of proof fallacy). Scientific arguments should also not be framed within dichotomous “either/or” scenarios (e.g., claiming that dealing with diversity is either a matter of science or ideology), as doing so is unsound (false dichotomy fallacy). And they should certainly not invoke claims about the characteristics of other scientists, the credibility or track record of those scientists, or truncated media articles about those scientists and their research, as such arguments focus on the scientist and have no direct bearing on the actual scientific arguments (ad hominem fallacy). 1 It should go without saying that critiquing a single scientific article does not license one to draw conclusions about the ideologies of those scientists, nor does it license one to draw conclusions about the entire scientific literature that one has failed to review.
Of course, no scientific claims should be immune from critical inquiry. In fact, disagreement presents a powerful opportunity for learning. However, how we express disagreement is critical. Balanced discussion, sound arguments, and scientific evidence advance understanding. Hyperbole, talking points, hostile or dismissive language, personal attacks, and shaming do not. I hope that this commentary serves as an opportunity to advance our collective understanding of the intersections between science and ideology and that it inspires future generations of psychological scientists to work toward a more democratic, self-aware, and productive science. And to that future generation, I close here with words of wisdom from Toni Morrison (1975):
The very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of this is necessary. There will always be one more thing.
There will always be one more thing.
