If you've ever waited six months (or longer) for peer review feedback only to get a vague needs major revisions with a side of Reviewer #2's bad attitude in response, you probably have plenty of opinions on peer review already.
Peer review might be the guardian of scientific integrity, but it’s a clunky, outdated process running on the goodwill of exhausted academics who would often rather be doing literally anything else.
Let’s stop pretending this system still works as intended. The cracks are showing… and widening.
The Peer Review Process:
You submit your paper.
Great. Now prepare to wait... and wait... and wait. First, the editor must decide if your manuscript is worth sending out. If you dodge the dreaded desk rejection, congrats! You've reached the next bottleneck: Finding reviewers.Finding reviewers shouldn’t be like searching for a unicorn.
But it is. Editors have to scramble to get two or three reviewers to say yes. I’ve never seen an academic’s inbox with <300 unread emails, and with no incentive to prioritize reviewing, most invites get ignored or politely declined. I’ve heard editors say they’ve had to contact >10 individuals just to find one single reviewer. And I’ve heard even more academics say their papers are stuck in limbo because the journal can’t find reviewers.Once reviewers are secured?
Deadlines are more like polite suggestions. There’s no accountability and no consequences for dragging things out. Why would a reviewer rush? They're unpaid, unrecognized, and likely squeezing reviewing in between their teaching, admin, and research deadlines.
Most peer review processes take 3–6 months, though some researchers have described having to wait over a year to hear back (often, a rejection… so they have to start the process all over again).
Why Are We Still Accepting This?
Peer review was built on a foundation of community spirit and academic duty. That worked OK when publishing wasn’t a hypercompetitive race. But academia, thanks to its publish or perish nature, has become a pressure cooker.
Researchers are burned out, expected to do more with less, and constantly evaluated according to metrics, outputs, and deadlines. So when peer review, an unpaid, invisible task (that counts less for tenure considerations than you might think) lands on their plate, it’s no surprise that it’s not exactly nearing the top of the priority list.
Additionally, the system disproportionately leans on a small pool of reviewers: ~10% of reviewers handle ~50% of reviews. No wonder reviewer burnout is becoming the norm, not the exception. That’s not sustainable. It’s a fast track to bias, fatigue, and declining review quality.
What Can We Actually Do About It?
Nobody really knows. If they did, something would have been done about it already because when there’s a problem in academia, it’s not left to fester like a forgotten cup of tea behind your de… wait. Never mind. I must have been thinking of a different workplace environment.
Anyway, the fact is that very little has been done about the peer review issues. We don’t need to scrap peer review entirely (though I’m sure some of you are tempted). But we do need to evolve past the this is how we’ve always done it mindset.
What might be viable solutions?
1. Open Peer Review: Less Mystery, More Accountability
The traditional anonymous reviewer in a dark room model is… potentially outdated. Open peer review flips the script by making reviewer reports (and sometimes names!) public. The benefits of open peer review include transparency, constructive dialogue, and a record of how a paper evolved through critique.
Plus, it gives reviewers something tangible to show for their effort. Published reviews can go on your CV and in your tenure file.
But open review isn’t without critics. Some fear retaliation and academic politics (for good reason) or suggest that reviewers will move too far away from the Reviewer #2 characteristic and flip to being too nice to avoid upsetting colleagues, reducing rigor and integrity. These are fair concerns; however, if done right, open peer review could clean up a lot of the mess that thrives in anonymity.
2. Credit Reviewers Like They Matter (Because They Do)
Academia runs on prestige… that publish or perish thing again. So why are we so bad at giving credit where it's due?
Recognition schemes, such as certificates, badges, or reviewer lists in published papers, are a possibility. This already exists in some spaces, for example, the Web of Science Reviewer Recognition service. Small gestures like a digital badge or a LinkedIn-worthy certificate (OK, half-joking there, but people do love posting certificates on LinkedIn) could motivate people to engage more thoughtfully (and quickly). However, recognition should reward quality, not just quantity. We don’t need to expand publish or perish to review or rust, which is likely where this approach will lead. Which brings me to the next option.
3. Paying Reviewers
Here’s the spicy take: Reviewers deserve to be paid!
We already pay for expert opinions in grant reviews, consultancy, and conference committees. Why is journal peer review treated differently? Platforms like Reviewer Credits provide points that can be redeemed for things like conference attendance and publication fees, providing (indirect) compensation for peer reviewers. Research Square pays peer reviewers an honorarium of $50.
Paying reviewers could expand the reviewer pool beyond the same overburdened academics, encourage diversity in reviewers (f*** the current US administration’s perspective… DEI matters in science), and help make peer review a respected, professional service instead of an afterthought squeezed in between grant applications and handling the aftermath of exploding centrifuges (that might be a niche experience… it’s not just me, right?).
Payment could bias reviewers, but combining payment with the open review process in option #1 could substantially reduce that risk. (And unpaid, anonymous reviews aren’t bias-free anyway!)
Making this happen could be challenging for other reasons, though, because as we all know, nothing in academia comes without a funding debate. If journals pass the cost onto authors (like they do with open access fees), we risk creating yet another barrier for researchers without deep pockets or institutional backing. So, the challenge is finding models where publishers, institutions, or third-party platforms absorb or subsidize costs fairly and equitably.
We’re not there yet.
Any solution requires a willingness to prioritize fixing the system over protecting outdated traditions. We can’t keep pretending that peer review is working just fine.
Open up the process.
Give proper recognition.
Pay people for their expertise.
These aren’t radical ideas. They’d be considered common sense in any other professional context. The question is… Will academia catch up, or will we keep watching good science get stuck behind a broken system?
If you're a researcher, editor, or reviewer: What would make you more willing to engage in peer review? Would recognition, transparency, or a paycheck change the game for you? Comment, share your experience, or tell me why you think peer review should (or shouldn’t) be reimagined.
This is how it’s always been is not a good standalone reason to keep doing anything! Let’s stop accepting broken systems just because they’re familiar. I’d love to hear your thoughts. What’s your worst peer review experience, and how would you fix this mess?