Why the Publish-or-Perish Culture Is Killing True Scientific Innovation

Measuring the value of a scientist’s work solely by the number of publications they produce has become alarmingly common in the modern research landscape. On the surface, it may appear logical: the more papers a researcher publishes, the more prolific they must be, and the more funding or professional recognition they might deserve. However, this line of thinking fails to capture the essence of genuine innovation. Discovery is rarely predictable, and forcing a fixed quota of publications per season or per year can stifle true creativity and curiosity. Rather than incentivising researchers to explore groundbreaking ideas, it ties them to the relentless task of meeting metrics of KPI, often at the expense of meaningful and impactful work.

In an ideal world, science is about passionate exploration—where a curious mind focuses on important questions and devotes the necessary time to reach meaningful conclusions. In some years, a researcher may experience a flurry of breakthroughs; in others, they may spend countless hours testing hypotheses that produce inconclusive or even negative results, while still contributing to the field’s understanding of what doesn’t work. Yet, in today’s climate, these natural ebbs and flows of the scientific process are discouraged if they don’t result in a steady stream of “publishable” data. Because promotions, tenure and funding typically depend on bibliometric measures, scientists feel pressured to dedicate significant energy to tasks that prioritise quantity over quality.

A conceptual image created with DALL E

This pressure leads to a common, if uncomfortable, reality: an overabundance of papers, many of which are deemed “salami-sliced” or trivial. These papers exist primarily to keep the publication count healthy, rather than to provide actual insight or substantial progress to the field. As researchers are compelled to satisfy external expectations—applying for grants, meeting institutional benchmarks and climbing academic ladders—the intrinsic motivation to investigate important questions can shift towards a more output-driven mindset. Instead of carefully crafting a single, comprehensive paper that conveys in-depth insights, researchers may break down their findings into smaller, discrete units that can be published separately, simply to inflate their numbers. As a result, the scientific community is flooded with fragmented pieces of work, making it more challenging to discern which publications genuinely push the boundaries of knowledge.

We must also consider the nature of discovery itself. No researcher, regardless of their dedication or brilliance, can guarantee an “aha” moment by the next spring or autumn. Scientific progress can be slow, sporadic and unpredictable, like sparks of inspiration. Some of the greatest breakthroughs in history—such as the discovery of the structure of DNA, the invention of the transistor, or the detection of gravitational waves—emerged from years of meticulous investigation and, often, a series of dead ends. By demanding a certain quota of publications per year, we risk undervaluing those long, patient pursuits that, while not yielding immediate results, lay the foundation for transformative discoveries in the future.

Moreover, real innovation often stems from taking risks that may not pay off. If one is pressured to publish frequently, there is a natural tendency to play it safe, pursuing projects that promise quick, incremental progress rather than taking a leap into the unknown. While smaller, incremental studies certainly contribute to science, breakthroughs often occur when researchers are willing to challenge the status quo and explore uncharted territory. By favouring safe, short-term projects, the current publish-or-perish culture diminishes the likelihood of scientists addressing significant questions that require years or even decades of careful work.

It’s also vital to address how this culture affects the well-being of researchers themselves. Constantly racing to produce publications can rob scientists of the time needed for genuine reflection and intellectual growth. Young researchers in particular—who enter the field brimming with passion—soon find themselves mentally juggling multiple manuscript drafts, grant applications and administrative tasks, all in pursuit of a secure footing in academia. The burnout that follows can stifle creativity, making it harder for bright minds to stay motivated and deliver genuinely groundbreaking ideas. Over time, this relentless focus on output can transform what should be a noble pursuit of truth into a mechanical process of data generation, with diminishing returns for both scientists and society.

Beyond the impact on individual researchers, these publication quotas can distort the broader scientific ecosystem. Journal impact factors, citations, h-indices—these metrics were originally intended to provide a snapshot of a researcher’s influence, yet they can be easily manipulated or misinterpreted. A single, monumental finding that shapes the direction of an entire field could be overshadowed by dozens of minor studies with little real-world impact. Focusing too heavily on metrics often encourages behaviour that boosts those numbers rather than the substance behind them, from citing one’s own or colleagues’ papers repeatedly to rushing manuscripts to publication without thorough peer review. In a system where numbers reign supreme, the integrity and authenticity of scientific inquiry can become secondary.

However, there is reason for optimism. Many in the scientific community recognise these pitfalls and are calling for change. Alternative metrics that value the quality of research over its quantity are gradually gaining traction. Forward-thinking funding bodies and institutions are exploring new ways to evaluate researchers based on their long-term contributions, the reproducibility of their experiments and the sharing of datasets and software. Some policies are beginning to reward researchers who practise open science—making their findings and methodologies transparent, thereby enhancing the field’s collective reliability and progress. These are hopeful signs, suggesting that the conversation around scientific success is evolving.

Ultimately, the heart of true innovation lies in the deep curiosity and dedication of those who dare to ask unconventional questions and follow the answers wherever they may lead. Granting scientists the time and freedom to pursue challenging inquiries, even if they yield slow or uncertain payoffs, is essential for the kind of breakthroughs that can change the world. Numbers alone can never capture the richness of that journey. A more holistic system—one that values thoroughness, courage, collaboration and ethical rigour—is key to sustaining and nurturing the next generation of pioneers.

It’s time to remind ourselves that science is a human endeavour—a pursuit driven by curiosity, inspired by the unknown, and refined by setbacks as much as by triumphs. When we reduce it to a numbers game, we risk losing sight of the quality, creativity, and sincerity that fuel genuine discovery. By abandoning the obsession with publication quotas, and instead encouraging risk-taking and depth, we can cultivate an environment where visionary ideas can flourish. We have everything to gain by measuring a researcher’s contribution in more holistic terms, and everything to lose if we allow quantity to eclipse true scientific innovation.