To read is to cite: A moral proposition [Journal of Linguistic Anthropology]

Readership and writership: how do we disentangle these two issues? As the former editor-in-chief of the Journal of Linguistic Anthropology who worked in this role for over five years, I have too wondered about the so-called “natural limits” of reading (Klein 1989) and the technological enhancements of writing, and how these modalities might have fallen out of sync with one another (and even more now with the rise of Artificial Intelligence). With all of the speculations about how journal editorships have changed in recent years and might change in the not too far future, I wish to focus instead on a related issue that often gets swept under the rug and has not changed much, resisting most efforts to theorize or transform. This is the relationship between reading and citing. I understand this relationship to have different moral, functional, and institutional valences that are often at odds with one another. To resolve these tensions, journal editors should adopt a clear vision of a citational politics to guide reading and citing practices.

To read is to cite. What may be wrong with this statement? First, it implies that writers who cite an article have read that article. Second, it implies that the readers of an article will cite it at some future point when they write their own article. When we think about it, none of these statements are either logically necessary or even statistically likely. Instead, as journal editors often know intuitively, anecdotally, or quantitatively, authors commonly read without citing, they read only to cite, and they cite without fully reading. Maybe I should propose instead that to read should be to cite. What does this proposition mean and what consequences does it entail?

Let me begin by taking a step back and reviewing Wolfgang Klein’s argument about ideal investments in reading and writing (demonstrating my own commitment to reading and citing outside my field to enhance my knowledge about language, culture, and society). More reading is good, Klein argues, and less writing might also be good. Good for the scholar who would have more time to develop original ideas and conduct rigorous research. And also good for the scholar who would have more time to be exposed to different ideas and research in one’s field or other fields as well. (Probably not as good for publishing companies that base some of their revenues on the quantity of the research articles that are produced, or for universities as well, especially if at least part of their metrics for evaluation hinge on an amount of scholarly output – although, presumably, the latter’s incentive structures could be adjusted to accommodate an agreed-upon limit that could cease to fuel competition among scholars to publish more while reading less).

Yet, is more citing actually good and, if so, for whom, under what circumstances, and why? I have based much of my career as editor-in-chief contemplating these questions, and I have decided that, yes, more citing is good for everyone when done with an eye to increasing diversity, equity, and inclusion. I have even written an essay about this topic (Das 2021) and spoken to fellow colleagues and students about the work that I have done to develop a citational politics for my journal. First, my co-editor, Chaise LaDousa, and I took the initiative to convene meetings of our editorial and advisory boards to discuss this very issue. Early on our goal was to establish codified standards for citational practices and post these on the journal’s website. We also temporarily changed the peer-review criteria on our platform to include a score rating the diversity of citations in the article under review. Yet these criteria, in place for just one month, produced results that caused mild alarm. Several people asked me, which forms of representation were being neglected in our original call for diversifying citational practices? Also, how does a peer reviewer know what is the actual or current identity of the author of the cited text, and can the non-consensual disclosure of the perceived or self-professed identity enact harm upon this individual? Finally, how does adhering to diverse citational practices (Craven 2021; Das 2021; Mott and Cockayne 2017; Smith et al. 2021) impact the quality of the journal article under review?

Rather than delving into the first two questions here, I probe further into the last one to take a stand and assert that, yes, citational practices that are consistent with a citational politics of increasing diversity, equity, and inclusion can do much to improve the quality of an article under review because these politics oblige authors to cultivate an ethics of readership that engages with works written by scholars who they do not ordinarily read or cite. It also expands the horizon of analytic frameworks to challenge disciplinary problems of polarization and over-specialization. As editor-in-chief, I wanted authors to show breadth and depth in their citations. Less important to me was their number of citations, since there was no said number that demonstrated mastery of any literature. Yet, keeping in mind that such criteria of breadth and depth could extend one’s reading indefinitely if required to consult texts beyond the discipline, I believe that a citational politics should reject a single-minded focus on quantification for opposing the spirit of Klein’s suggestion that authors slow down to publish and for promoting capitalist, not inclusionary, logics. Also, to address uncertainties about whether citing an article automatically reinforces the notion that the article is the best written text on the subject rather than the article that the author knows best, I argue that this dilemma can be side-stepped if a scholar commits to reading and citing more and different authors in the future. However, since reading for future citations is not the only desirable outcome of an article’s existence, editors should also endorse and promote other ways to measure an article’s impact, such as number of downloads, presence on course syllabi or social media, and references in everyday conversations or interdisciplinary research. In any case, a citational politics does not assume that citing is akin to endorsing an author’s conclusions, and one can cite and also disagree with the text as long as it is done with generosity. Finally, since for readers an exhaustive list of citations can present a less than satisfying reading experience and this dissatisfaction could deter the reference-heavy article from being cited in the future, a citational politics obliges peer reviewers, as the first-round of readers, to pay careful attention to readability in deciding which sources enhance the text and which can be saved for future use.

Thus, even though the first proposition, “to read is to cite,” is fallible and the second, “to read should be to cite,” is riddled with uncertainties, there is still a moral impetus for editors to adopt the raison d’être of a citational politics as “good” reading and writing practices. When I assert that “to read is to cite” is a moral proposition, I am claiming that reading with purpose is essential for developing an intention to cite a diverse body of works and put it in conversation with one’s own scholarship now and in the indefinite future. Framed in this way, the proposition fosters a relationship with living scholarship that encourages ongoing reflexive acts of reading, writing, and citing. It also entails a contract promising to read and cite not once but frequently, and not endorse one type of diversity but the many types encountered over one’s career. Thus, it should be evident that standardizing and codifying citational practices for all is not the answer. In fact, each discipline needs to research and develop their own citational politics. For example, in linguistic anthropology and sociolinguistics, there is compelling evidence that the low number of citations of female-identifying and female-presenting authors does not match the high number of these scholars in these field; however, when female-identifying editors head a journal, the trend can be less pronounced (McElhinney et al. 2003). Citational disparities in other social identity categories require similar attention, although this data is not essential to enact a plan to act now.

By endorsing a citational politics upfront and outright, editors can have a larger impact on the impact of their journal without succumbing to the logics of impact factors and the like. A variety of editorial strategies can include providing guidance to early-career authors about how to judiciously read, select, and cite articles, curating thematic issues with editorial prefaces that highlight scholarship in less-known topics or areas, and compiling digital issues showcasing past content that has not been cited for a while (such as a digital issue on heritage languages called “Revising and Reimagining Heritage Language” created by the Associate Editors of the Journal of Linguistic Anthropology [Revisiting 2022]). These are some of the many ways that editors can engage in stewardship, curate content, and cultivate curiosity so that reading becomes citing.

Additionally, regardless of their extra efforts, all editors have an obligation to educate readers about the merit of their published articles. All of the articles that I accepted over my five years have significant value for my readers. I do not want only some of these articles to be read; I want all of these articles to be read, and thought about, and cited, because I believe that they will advance our field in substantive ways. A mere two years ago you might have received journals in the mail and then, depending on your leisure time, sat down with an issue and read it from cover to cover, taking delight in the choice of cover art. This reading practice is largely gone now that journals have mostly abandoned print media for the digital format. Nonetheless, new strategies can promote reading for citing. The most popular are blogs, vlogs, and postings on social media. Journals that have effectively endorsed this strategy now use metrics to showcase “most popular” articles based on their social media presence (see, for example, Journal of Human Evolution).

To conclude, I believe that a citational politics can and does improve editorial work and this effect is in spite of the time pressures and technological changes prognostically proclaimed by Klein in 1989. When I was editor-in-chief, I barely scratched the surface of this issue. Quite frankly, my time was mostly dedicated to soliciting, reviewing, editing, and curating articles for issues and communicating with authors, reviewers, and members of the editorial and publishing teams. Although time ran out on my tenure, I am still thinking through how to read and cite for my own work. I am confident that current and future editors will address the thorny dilemmas of technology and authorship. Yet, I hope that they will continue to tackle the unfinished business of articulating a citational politics and inspiring readers, contributors, reviewers, publishers, and other editors about it. Without taking a stand on how to read with the intention to cite and cite with an eye toward diversity, equity, inclusion, any editorial responses to change will be shortsighted.

Sonia Das is the Past Editor of the Journal of Linguistic Anthropology.