flowchart TD
A[Author submits] --> B{Plagiarism &<br/>duplicate check}
B -->|fail| X[Returned to author]
B -->|pass| C{Editor screens<br/>for suitability}
C -->|unsuitable| D[Desk reject]
C -->|suitable| E[Assign area /<br/>associate editor]
E --> F[AE assigns<br/>2-3 reviewers]
F --> G[Reviewers submit<br/>independent reports]
G --> H[AE synthesizes<br/>recommendation]
H --> I{Editor decision}
I -->|reject| J[Reject]
I -->|major/minor| K[Revise &<br/>resubmit]
I -->|accept| L[Accept]
K --> M[Author revises] --> F
76 The Review Process
Peer review is the institution through which a scholarly field decides what counts as knowledge. A manuscript becomes a published contribution only after anonymous experts have judged it interesting, valid, and important enough to add to the record, and the editor has aggregated those judgments into a decision. For the author the process is a gauntlet; for the field it is a screening technology that trades speed for reliability. This chapter treats reviewing from both sides of the desk. It explains what an editor and a set of reviewers actually do to a submission, how a competent review is structured, and—because reviewing is at bottom a measurement problem—how to think formally about the reliability of the verdicts that emerge.
The chapter is also practical. A marketing PhD will referee dozens of papers before ever publishing many, and learning to review well is the fastest route to understanding what separates a strong paper from a rejected one. We therefore move from the motivation for reviewing, to the mechanics of the editorial pipeline, to the anatomy of a good referee report, to a statistical account of reviewer agreement and the noise inherent in the system. Throughout, the standard exemplar is the Journal of Marketing (JM), whose published review policy is unusually explicit; the principles transfer to the rest of the top-tier marketing journals (Chapter 1).1
76.1 Why Review
Refereeing is unpaid, anonymous, and invisible on a CV unless deliberately documented. Scholars nonetheless review for three self-interested reasons that align neatly with the field’s interest. The first is reciprocity: peer review is a commons. Every author consumes referee labor and is expected to supply it, and a field that under-supplies reviewing degrades the screening quality of every journal in it. The second is proximity to the frontier: a referee reads work months or years before it appears in print, and reviewing for a strong journal is the cheapest subscription to the research frontier that exists. The third is calibration: nothing teaches the difference between a publishable and an unpublishable paper faster than being forced to articulate, in writing and under an editor’s scrutiny, why a specific manuscript falls on one side of that line. The skills that make a good reviewer—identifying the contribution, stress-testing identification, separating fatal flaws from fixable ones—are exactly the skills that make a good author.
Because the labor is invisible, it must be made visible to count. Reviewing activity can be logged on services that verify referee reports with journals (for example by forwarding the journal’s acknowledgment email to a verification address), producing a citable record for promotion files and annual reviews. The mechanism matters less than the discipline of recording the work; an unrecorded review is a contribution the tenure committee never sees.
76.2 The Editorial Pipeline
A submission does not go straight to reviewers. It passes through a sequence of gates, each of which can terminate the process, and understanding that sequence demystifies both the long latencies authors experience and the points at which a paper is most likely to die. Figure 76.1 traces the path from submission to decision.
The first two gates are administrative. Submissions are screened by software for plagiarism and for duplicate or concurrent submission, the latter being a serious ethical violation because it wastes scarce referee capacity across journals. A manuscript that clears these is read by the editor (or editor-in-chief) for suitability: is the topic in scope, is the contribution plausibly large enough, is the execution credible on its face? A large share of submissions never survive this gate—they are desk-rejected without external review—which is efficient for the system but is the single most common author experience at selective journals.
A suitable paper is assigned to an area editor or associate editor (AE), a domain specialist who owns the manuscript through the rest of the process. The AE selects two or three reviewers. Reviewer selection is not random: candidates are drawn from the paper’s own reference list (authors of cited work are, by construction, close to the topic), from the author’s suggested-reviewer list, from the AE’s personal knowledge of the subfield, from candidates who declined earlier invitations and suggested alternatives, from web search, and from the publisher’s reviewer database. This selection mechanism has a consequence worth stating plainly: reviewers are chosen for topical proximity, not for statistical representativeness, so the pool of opinions an author receives is a convenience sample of nearby experts, not a random draw from the field.
Reviewers return independent written reports, and the AE synthesizes them into a single recommendation for the editor. Synthesis is not vote counting. A paper is not rejected because two of three reviewers were negative; it is rejected because the AE and editor, reading the reports as arguments, judge the objections dispositive. We return to why vote counting is the wrong aggregation rule in Section 76.6.
76.2.1 Decisions and Turnaround
The editor’s decision falls into a small set of categories. An outright reject ends the relationship with the journal. An accept is rare on a first round. The common non-terminal outcome is a revise and resubmit (R&R), of which two flavors must be distinguished because authors routinely confuse them.
| Outcome | Treated as | Returns to | Author expectation |
|---|---|---|---|
| Accept | Final | Production | Rare on round 1 |
| Reject | Final | — | Most common at selective journals |
| Revise & resubmit (revise) | Continuation | Same reviewers | Address numbered points; reasonable odds |
| Reject & resubmit | New submission | New reviewers | Fresh clock, fresh referees, no continuity |
The distinction in Table 76.1 is consequential. A revise-and-resubmit returns to the same reviewers, who will check whether their numbered concerns were addressed; continuity of referees rewards a disciplined, point-by-point response. A reject-and-resubmit is administratively a new paper—it resets the clock and is sent to a new set of reviewers—so the prior reports are guidance, not a binding contract, and the author cannot assume the new panel shares the old panel’s priorities. Turnaround norms at top journals target roughly three weeks for a reviewer to return a report after accepting the invitation and on the order of two weeks for the AE to synthesize, with the full first round commonly completing within about three months. Critically, an invited reviewer should decline promptly if unable to serve: a slow non-answer is more damaging to an author than a fast decline, because it delays reassignment.
76.3 What a Manuscript Must Deliver
Before turning to how a review is written, it helps to fix the bar a manuscript is held to. The published criteria at JM reduce to three properties a publishable article must simultaneously possess.
A publishable article offers new knowledge, addresses real-world marketing topics and problems of relevance to identifiable stakeholders, and exhibits validity—a good approximation of the truth.
These three—novelty, relevance, validity—are not independently sufficient. A methodologically flawless paper that tells the field nothing new fails on novelty; a novel and rigorous paper about a phenomenon no stakeholder cares about fails on relevance; a novel and important paper whose inference does not survive scrutiny fails on validity, which is usually fatal because validity, unlike novelty or relevance, cannot be repaired by reframing. Much of what a reviewer does is to locate which of these three a paper is weakest on and judge whether the weakness is fixable within a revision cycle.
76.4 The Process Reviewers Are Held To
The author is not the only party under evaluation; the review itself is held to standards, and an AE who receives a careless or unfair report will discount it. Table 76.2 collects the properties a competent review must satisfy. These are obligations on the referee, not on the manuscript.
| Standard | What it requires of the reviewer |
|---|---|
| Fairness | Judge the paper the authors wrote, against its stated objective |
| Competence | Possess reasonable domain knowledge for the claims at issue |
| Independence | Disclose and recuse on conflicts of interest |
| Consistency | Weigh interest, empirical rigor, conceptual rigor, relevance, constructiveness, and tolerance for risk |
| Non-vote-counting | Supply arguments, not a verdict count, for the AE to weigh |
| Responsibility | Respect the original objective, explain fatal flaws explicitly, preserve confidentiality |
| Timeliness | Reviewers ~3 weeks post-acceptance; AEs ~2 weeks to synthesize |
| Roadmap | Tell the author what a successful revision would look like |
Two of these deserve emphasis because they are the most often violated. Consistency means a reviewer should reward risk-taking: a paper that attempts something hard and important and partly succeeds can be a larger contribution than a paper that executes a small, safe question flawlessly, and a review that mechanically penalizes ambition starves the field of its most valuable submissions. Responsibility means that when a reviewer believes a flaw is fatal, the report must explain why, in enough detail that the author understands the objection rather than merely the verdict; an unexplained rejection is a failure of the reviewer, not a service to the field. The combination of these standards with a roadmap—an explicit statement of what a successful revision would contain—is what converts a review from a judgment into a constructive instrument.
76.5 Anatomy of a Referee Report
A good report is short, numbered, and organized so the AE can extract a recommendation and the author can extract a to-do list. The conventional length is about two single-spaced pages, and comments are numbered so that author and editor can reference them precisely in correspondence. Figure 76.2 shows the canonical structure, which mirrors the three-paragraph template many editors recommend: contextualize, evaluate, then enumerate issues.
flowchart LR
A[Synopsis<br/>of paper &<br/>findings] --> B[Contribution<br/>assessment]
B --> C[Major comments<br/>conceptual /<br/>empirical]
C --> D[Readability]
D --> E[Minor comments<br/>numbered]
The opening paragraph contextualizes the research, conveys the key message of the paper in the reviewer’s own words, and notes what was done well. Restating the paper’s thesis is not a courtesy; it lets the author and editor verify that the reviewer understood the contribution before critiquing it, and a reviewer who cannot summarize the paper accurately has forfeited the authority to reject it. The middle of the report evaluates the work along the dimensions the field cares about: is the paper well written, interesting, and important; are the methods, data, and design appropriate; and—the decisive empirical question—does the data support the findings? The body then enumerates issues, and the most useful reports separate the major comments (factual errors, invalid arguments, identification problems, claims unsupported by the evidence) from minor ones (exposition, length relative to the journal’s norms, missing references), and pair each major objection with a path to improvement wherever one exists.
The distinction between major and minor is not cosmetic. An AE reading three reports needs to know which objections are dispositive and which are polish, and a report that buries a fatal identification problem in a list of typographical corrections has failed to communicate its own conclusion. The closing of a strong report is the roadmap from Table 76.2: a concrete statement of what the authors would have to demonstrate for the reviewer to change a negative recommendation to a positive one.
76.6 Reviewing as Measurement
Peer review is, formally, a measurement procedure: several raters observe the same object (the manuscript) and emit ordinal judgments, and the system aggregates those judgments into a decision. Viewing it this way makes precise why vote counting is the wrong aggregation rule and why even a well-run process is noisy.
Let a manuscript \(i\) have an unobserved latent quality \(q_i \in \mathbb{R}\). Reviewer \(j\) does not observe \(q_i\); she observes a noisy signal and reports a rating \[ r_{ij} = q_i + b_j + \varepsilon_{ij}, \tag{76.1}\] where \(b_j\) is reviewer \(j\)’s systematic leniency or severity (a fixed rater effect) and \(\varepsilon_{ij}\) is idiosyncratic noise with variance \(\sigma^2_\varepsilon\). Equation Equation 76.1 is the linear measurement model that underlies every reliability statistic below. Two features of real review panels map directly onto its terms. First, reviewers differ in severity \(b_j\)—some referees reject almost everything—so a paper’s fate depends partly on the luck of the draw in Figure 76.1. Second, because reviewers are selected for topical proximity rather than at random, their errors \(\varepsilon_{ij}\) need not be independent: two referees from the same methodological camp may share a blind spot, violating the independence that naive aggregation assumes.
This is precisely why synthesis is not vote counting. Under Equation 76.1, the AE’s task is to estimate \(q_i\) from the reports, and a count of “rejects” throws away exactly the information that distinguishes a severe reviewer’s reflexive negativity (\(b_j \ll 0\)) from a substantive, dispositive objection (a genuinely low \(q_i\)). A reasoned synthesis reads the arguments—the content of \(\varepsilon_{ij}\), in effect—and down-weights severity that is not backed by a defensible flaw. The formal model thus rationalizes the editorial insistence that recommendations carry arguments rather than verdicts.
76.6.1 Quantifying Agreement
How much do reviewers actually agree? For continuous or quasi-continuous ratings, the natural summary is the intraclass correlation coefficient (ICC), the share of total rating variance attributable to true between-manuscript differences rather than to rater effects and noise (Shrout and Fleiss 1979). Under Equation 76.1 with manuscript variance \(\sigma^2_q\), the single-rater reliability is \[ \text{ICC} = \frac{\sigma^2_q}{\sigma^2_q + \sigma^2_b + \sigma^2_\varepsilon}, \tag{76.2}\] which falls toward zero as rater severity (\(\sigma^2_b\)) and idiosyncratic noise (\(\sigma^2_\varepsilon\)) swamp the genuine quality signal. Equation Equation 76.2 also explains why journals assign multiple reviewers: averaging \(m\) independent reports reduces the noise term to \(\sigma^2_\varepsilon/m\), so the reliability of the mean rating rises with the panel size—the Spearman–Brown logic—provided the errors really are independent, which the selection mechanism above puts in doubt.
For categorical verdicts (accept / R&R / reject), agreement is measured by Cohen’s \(\kappa\), which corrects the raw proportion of agreement for the agreement expected by chance (Cohen 1960). With observed agreement \(p_o\) and chance agreement \(p_e\), \[ \kappa = \frac{p_o - p_e}{1 - p_e}, \tag{76.3}\] so \(\kappa = 1\) denotes perfect agreement, \(\kappa = 0\) denotes agreement no better than chance, and negative values denote systematic disagreement. The conventional benchmarks for interpreting \(\kappa\) come from Landis and Koch (1977): values in \([0.21, 0.40]\) are “fair,” \([0.41, 0.60]\) “moderate,” \([0.61, 0.80]\) “substantial.” Empirical studies of peer review across fields routinely land in the fair-to-moderate range, which is sobering: it means the categorical verdict on a borderline paper carries real stochastic content, and the decision an author receives is one draw from a distribution rather than a deterministic reading of merit.
76.6.2 A Worked Example
The code below simulates the measurement model in Equation 76.1 and reports both reliability statistics, making concrete how rater severity and noise erode agreement. We draw latent qualities for a set of manuscripts, add reviewer-specific severity and idiosyncratic noise, threshold the continuous ratings into accept/R&R/reject verdicts, and compute the ICC of the continuous scores and Cohen’s \(\kappa\) of the categorical verdicts for a pair of reviewers.
Code
set.seed(42)
n_papers <- 200 # manuscripts
n_reviewers <- 3 # reviewers per paper
sigma_q <- 1.0 # SD of true manuscript quality
sigma_b <- 0.6 # SD of reviewer severity (fixed rater effect)
sigma_e <- 0.8 # SD of idiosyncratic rating noise
# True latent quality of each manuscript, and each reviewer's severity.
q <- rnorm(n_papers, mean = 0, sd = sigma_q)
b <- rnorm(n_reviewers, mean = 0, sd = sigma_b)
# Ratings r_ij = q_i + b_j + e_ij (rows = papers, cols = reviewers)
ratings <- sapply(seq_len(n_reviewers), function(j) {
q + b[j] + rnorm(n_papers, mean = 0, sd = sigma_e)
})
# --- ICC via a one-way variance decomposition (reliability of a single rater) ---
grand_mean <- mean(ratings)
paper_means <- rowMeans(ratings)
ms_between <- n_reviewers * sum((paper_means - grand_mean)^2) / (n_papers - 1)
ms_within <- sum((ratings - paper_means)^2) / (n_papers * (n_reviewers - 1))
icc <- (ms_between - ms_within) /
(ms_between + (n_reviewers - 1) * ms_within)
# --- Cohen's kappa on categorical verdicts for reviewers 1 and 2 ---
# Threshold continuous ratings into reject / R&R / accept.
to_verdict <- function(x) cut(x, breaks = c(-Inf, -0.5, 0.5, Inf),
labels = c("reject", "RnR", "accept"))
v1 <- to_verdict(ratings[, 1])
v2 <- to_verdict(ratings[, 2])
tab <- table(v1, v2)
p_o <- sum(diag(tab)) / sum(tab) # observed agreement
p_e <- sum(rowSums(tab) * colSums(tab)) / sum(tab)^2 # chance agreement
kappa <- (p_o - p_e) / (1 - p_e)
cat(sprintf("Single-rater ICC: %.3f\n", icc))
#> Single-rater ICC: 0.301
cat(sprintf("Observed agreement (reviewers 1 & 2): %.3f\n", p_o))
#> Observed agreement (reviewers 1 & 2): 0.415
cat(sprintf("Cohen's kappa (reviewers 1 & 2): %.3f\n", kappa))
#> Cohen's kappa (reviewers 1 & 2): 0.154The simulation reproduces the empirical regularity: with realistic severity and noise, single-rater reliability is modest and categorical \(\kappa\) lands in the fair-to-moderate band of Landis and Koch (1977). Raising sigma_b or sigma_e relative to sigma_q drives both statistics toward zero, which is the formal statement of a familiar complaint—reviewing is noisier than authors wish—and the justification for the institutional responses that surround it: multiple reviewers to average down noise, an AE to discount severity, and the editor’s argument-weighing synthesis to recover signal that any single verdict discards.
76.7 Replication and Transparency
A measurement procedure is only as credible as the evidence it screens, and the top marketing journals have moved decisively toward research transparency: authors of empirical papers are increasingly required to deposit data and analysis code so that published results can be reproduced. From the reviewer’s standpoint this adds a verification task—do the supplied materials regenerate the reported numbers?— and from the field’s standpoint it raises the validity bar in Table 76.1 by making the third criterion, validity, externally checkable rather than taken on faith. Reviewers should treat a transparency package as part of the submission and weigh its completeness alongside the manuscript’s arguments.
76.8 The Credibility Revolution and Research Integrity
The transparency requirements above did not arise in a vacuum. They are the operational residue of roughly a decade of self-examination, often called the credibility revolution or the replication crisis, during which psychology, economics, and the quantitative social sciences (marketing among them) reconsidered how much of their published record they actually believed. For a reviewer this history is not a curiosity. It supplies the specific checklist of failure modes a referee is now expected to screen for, and it explains why the field added the institutional machinery (preregistration, registered reports, data deposit, forensic re-analysis) that surrounds the classical review process described above. This section maps that terrain. It begins with the evidence that the literature was less reliable than assumed, turns to the unresolved statistical debates the crisis reopened, then to the forensic methods and integrity cases that data transparency made possible, and closes with a neutral tour of the marketing-specific methodological disagreements a referee will encounter and should be able to frame fairly.
76.8.1 The Replication and Credibility Crisis
The intellectual spark is usually credited to Simmons, Nelson, and Simonsohn (2011), False-Positive Psychology, which showed by simulation and live demonstration that exploiting researcher degrees of freedom, the undisclosed choices about exclusions, conditions, covariates, and stopping rules that every analysis involves, can manufacture statistically significant support for essentially any hypothesis, driving the false-positive rate far above the nominal five percent even when no effect exists. The authors proposed disclosure remedies (the well-known “twenty-one-word solution”). Gelman and Loken (2014) sharpened the point with the metaphor of the garden of forking paths: a researcher need not consciously run many analyses to inflate error rates, because the single analysis actually run is contingent on the data observed, so the p-value is uninterpretable without a pre-specified plan. The disagreement here is not about whether the mechanism is real (it provably is) but about how much of the published literature it has actually contaminated and how aggressively the field should respond, a distinction worth preserving when a reviewer raises the concern.
The credibility revolution has a specific trigger, and it is worth knowing, because the logic that produced it applies unchanged to marketing. The field’s standard methods were used correctly, by a respected researcher, at a top journal, to demonstrate something almost nobody believed.
2011 — the paper. Bem (2011) publishes Feeling the Future in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, reporting nine experiments in which participants appear to be influenced by stimuli presented after their responses. The methods are conventional. The statistics are conventional. Eight of the nine studies reach significance.
2011 — the response, in the same issue. Wagenmakers et al. (2011) reply that the correct inference is not that precognition exists but that the field’s standard analytic practice is broken: exploratory analysis presented as confirmatory, and p-values interpreted without regard to the prior implausibility of the hypothesis. Their argument generalizes immediately—if these methods produce this result, what are they producing everywhere else?
2012 — the replications fail. Ritchie, Wiseman, and French (2012) report three unsuccessful attempts to replicate the retroactive-recall effect. Notably, they had difficulty placing the paper: journals that had published the original were not obviously in the business of publishing failures to replicate it, which became an argument about publication incentives in its own right.
Why this is in a marketing book. Bem’s paper is the field’s cleanest natural experiment on its own methods, precisely because the hypothesis was one nobody wanted to accept. When a method yields a conclusion the field is prepared to believe, the method is not tested. Every reform in this chapter—preregistration, registered reports, disclosure standards, data posting—descends from a community concluding that the conventional pipeline could manufacture support for anything. Marketing runs the same pipeline on hypotheses that are entirely plausible, which is a harder case to audit, not an easier one.
The empirical question, how replicable is the literature, was addressed by large coordinated projects. The Open Science Collaboration (2015) replicated 100 psychology studies and found that roughly one-third to one-half met various replication criteria, with replication effect sizes about half the size of the originals. Camerer et al. (2018) replicated social-science experiments published in Nature and Science and successfully reproduced about thirteen of twenty-one, again with attenuated effects. A non-replication is ambiguous, however: it can mean the original was a false positive, or that the replication differed in some hidden but consequential way. The Many Labs projects (Klein et al. 2014, 2018) addressed this by running identical protocols across many sites, finding that most effects were robust across samples while a minority varied, evidence that contextual heterogeneity is real but does not by itself account for most non-replications. Figure 76.3 arranges these landmarks. The honest synthesis, which a reviewer can state as genuine convergence rather than as one camp’s opinion, is that replication rates sit materially below 100 percent and effect sizes shrink on replication, while the mix of causes remains debated.
The headline finding that roughly a third to a half of psychology studies replicated became one of the most cited results in social science, and it was contested directly, in Science, by four senior researchers. The exchange is short—both pieces occupy the same page—and unusually instructive, because it is a disagreement about statistical method conducted over a statistic about statistical method.
2015 — the estimate. Open Science Collaboration (2015) report the Reproducibility Project: Psychology, replicating 100 studies with the original authors’ materials.
March 2016 — the challenge. Gilbert et al. (2016) argue the project systematically understated replicability: that many replications differed from the originals in ways likely to matter, that the sampling of studies was not representative, and that the statistical criteria used to declare a replication failed were themselves biased toward failure. Their conclusion is that the data are consistent with a much higher reproducibility rate than reported.
March 2016 — the response, same page. Anderson et al. (2016), writing for 44 members of the collaboration, reply that the critique’s own assumptions are optimistic, that its preferred benchmark relies on a subset of studies chosen in a way that favors the conclusion, and that the original estimate stands.
How a referee should hold this. The prudent position is not to pick a number. It is to notice what both sides concede: replication rates are below 100 percent, replication effect sizes are systematically smaller than originals, and the causes—false positives, hidden moderators, methodological drift between original and replication—cannot be separated from the aggregate statistics alone. That is enough to justify every reform in this chapter without needing to settle whether the true figure is 40 percent or 60. Beware of anyone who quotes one figure as settled, in either direction.
flowchart LR
A[2011<br/>False-Positive<br/>Psychology] --> B[2014<br/>Garden of<br/>forking paths]
B --> C[2015<br/>Open Science<br/>Collaboration]
C --> D[2014-18<br/>Many Labs<br/>1 and 2]
D --> E[2017<br/>Reproducibility<br/>manifesto]
E --> F[2018+<br/>Preregistration &<br/>registered reports]
If selective reporting and forking paths are the disease, preregistration (committing to hypotheses and analyses before seeing the data) and registered reports (peer review of the design before results are known, with in-principle acceptance) are the leading proposed cures (Nosek et al. 2018; Munafò et al. 2017). Registered reports relocate the review process itself: the referee evaluates the question and the design rather than the result, which removes the incentive to reverse-engineer a clean story from a messy dataset. Early outcome evidence is encouraging; Soderberg et al. (2021) found that registered reports scored higher on rigor and quality dimensions than comparison papers. The mature position is not that preregistration is mandatory for all work but that it disciplines confirmatory inference without displacing exploratory analysis, provided the exploratory portion is labeled honestly. The journal-level counterpart is the Transparency and Openness Promotion (TOP) framework (Nosek et al. 2015), which the data-deposit norms in the preceding section instantiate.
76.8.2 Statistical-Significance Debates
The crisis reopened a foundational and still-unresolved argument about statistical significance itself. The American Statistical Association took the unusual step of issuing a formal statement (Wasserstein and Lazar 2016) clarifying what a p-value is not: it is not the probability that the null hypothesis is true, and statistical significance is not practical importance. There is broad agreement on these negative claims and continued disagreement on what, if anything, should replace null-hypothesis significance testing; the ASA’s own follow-up (Wasserstein, Schirm, and Lazar 2019) surveyed the options and pointedly declined to endorse a single replacement.
Three reform proposals now compete, and a referee should recognize them as live rather than settled. The redefine camp (Benjamin et al. 2018) proposes lowering the default threshold for new discoveries from .05 to .005, treating the interval between as merely suggestive. The justify camp (Lakens et al. 2018) replies that no single threshold fits all contexts and that researchers should transparently justify the alpha they adopt given the costs of each kind of error. The abandon camp (Amrhein, Greenland, and McShane 2019; McShane et al. 2019), the last of which is led in part by a marketing and statistics scholar, argues for retiring the dichotomous significant-versus-not verdict entirely and treating p-values as one continuous piece of evidence among many. Table 76.3 summarizes the three positions. The accurate summary for the book is near-universal agreement that a bright-line p < .05 is misused, alongside genuine disagreement on the remedy.
| Position | Core proposal | Representative work |
|---|---|---|
| Redefine | Lower the default discovery threshold to .005; .005–.05 is “suggestive” | Benjamin et al. (2018) |
| Justify | No universal threshold; justify alpha from error costs and study goals | Lakens et al. (2018) |
| Abandon | Retire the significant/not-significant dichotomy; treat p as continuous evidence | Amrhein, Greenland, and McShane (2019); McShane et al. (2019) |
Table 76.3 states the three positions; the sequence in which they arrived explains why none of them won, and a referee who knows the order will read a methods section differently.
2016 — the professional body intervenes. The American Statistical Association issues a formal statement on p-values (Wasserstein and Lazar 2016). This is unusual: scholarly societies do not normally rule on how to interpret a statistic. The statement is almost entirely negative—six principles about what a p-value is not—and it deliberately stops short of prescribing a replacement.
2018 — a threshold is proposed, and immediately contested. Benjamin et al. (2018), with a large multidisciplinary author list, propose lowering the default discovery threshold to .005. Lakens et al. (2018) reply, with an author list of comparable size and overlapping fields, that no universal threshold can be right and that researchers should justify alpha from the error costs of the specific decision. Two large coalitions of methodologists, publishing near-simultaneously, reaching opposite conclusions from the same premise that .05 is misused.
2019 — a third camp says the question is wrong. Amrhein, Greenland, and McShane (2019) and McShane et al. (2019) argue for retiring the dichotomy entirely. The same year, the ASA’s own follow-up (Wasserstein, Schirm, and Lazar 2019) surveys the options and pointedly declines to endorse one.
How to use this at the desk. The disagreement is real, so a referee cannot demand adherence to any one camp. What all three positions share is a rejection of the bright line applied mechanically, and that shared ground is enough to support a concrete request: report effect sizes with intervals, state the inferential threshold and why it was chosen, and do not describe a result as absent because it failed to cross .05. Those are compatible with redefine, justify, and abandon alike—which is why they are the requests worth making.
Running underneath this is the longer-standing Bayesian versus frequentist question: whether to quantify evidence with p-values and confidence intervals or with posterior probabilities and Bayes factors. The Bayesian side (Rouder et al. 2009; Wagenmakers et al. 2018) emphasizes that Bayes factors can quantify evidence for a null hypothesis and sidestep several p-value pathologies, while the frequentist-reform side is well represented by the ASA materials above. Modern practice increasingly treats the two as complementary and reports both; the chapters on Bayesian modeling develop the machinery a reviewer would check.
76.8.3 Forensic Data Analysis and Integrity
Data transparency did more than let reviewers regenerate reported numbers; it enabled a class of forensic methods that probe published results for arithmetic and statistical impossibilities, and it made possible the independent re-analyses associated with the blog Data Colada. The methods matter more than any individual case, so we lead with the toolkit, summarized in Table 76.4.
| Tool | What it checks | Source |
|---|---|---|
| p-curve | Whether a set of significant findings reflects a real effect or selective reporting, from the distribution of significant p-values | Simonsohn, Nelson, and Simmons (2014) |
| Specification-curve / multiverse | Runs and displays all defensible analytic choices rather than one, exposing fragility | Steegen et al. (2016); Simonsohn, Simmons, and Nelson (2020) |
| GRIM | Whether a reported mean is arithmetically possible given the sample size and integer responses | Brown and Heathers (2017) |
| Excess-uniformity checks | Whether improbable similarity across conditions signals fabricated data | Simonsohn (2013) |
P-curve (Simonsohn, Nelson, and Simmons 2014) infers whether a body of significant findings reflects a genuine effect or selective reporting by examining the shape of the distribution of significant p-values. Specification-curve or multiverse analysis (Steegen et al. 2016; Simonsohn, Simmons, and Nelson 2020) formalizes running and reporting all reasonable analytic specifications rather than a single favored one, so a reader can see whether a result depends on a particular defensible choice. GRIM (Brown and Heathers 2017) performs a deceptively simple arithmetic check: given a sample size and integer-valued responses, only certain means are possible, and a reported mean that is not on that list signals an error. And Simonsohn (2013) showed that excessive uniformity or improbable similarity across conditions can reveal fabricated data from the statistics alone, an argument for routine data posting. These are exactly the checks a transparency package now lets a referee, or a later reader, perform.
The remainder of this subsection describes a small number of prominent integrity cases. It does so in a deliberately measured, court-reporter register: every factual claim is anchored only to public records, namely retraction notices, official investigation outcomes, and dated published analyses. Where matters remain contested or are the subject of litigation, that is stated as such, and no allegation is asserted as settled fact. The pedagogical point is what the forensic methods and data transparency can reveal, not a verdict on any person.
Consider first the field-experiment literature on honesty pledges. A 2012 article in PNAS (Shu et al. 2012) reported that signing an honesty declaration before rather than after reporting information reduced dishonesty, using auto-insurance mileage data among other studies. In 2020 a registered set of replications co-authored by several of the original authors did not reproduce the effect (Kristal et al. 2020). In 2021, Data Colada published a post (post number 98, dated August 2021) reporting anomalies in the field-experiment data underlying the 2012 paper, and PNAS subsequently published a retraction of the article (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 2021). The accurate public-record summary is therefore: the 2012 article was retracted in 2021; a replication by several of the original authors had failed to reproduce the effect; and an independent analysis reported anomalies in the underlying field data. Public reporting has attributed the questioned data to a particular source, but because responsibility is contested and related matters have touched litigation, the book assigns no blame.
A second sequence concerns several papers co-authored by one researcher. A 2015 article in Psychological Science (Gino, Kouchaki, and Galinsky 2015) was retracted in 2023, a fact recorded in the journal’s published retraction notice (Psychological Science 2023). In 2023 Data Colada published a four-part series (“Data Falsificada,” posts 109 through 112) reporting anomalies across several co-authored papers; the relevant institution conducted an internal investigation, and several papers were retracted. Defamation litigation related to these allegations has been reported in public sources, and elements remain contested. The book states only that the matter has been the subject of litigation and that the allegations remain contested, without characterizing the merits. The durable lesson for a reviewer is structural rather than personal: arithmetic checks like GRIM, distributional checks like p-curve, and above all the routine posting of raw data are what make independent verification possible, which is precisely why the transparency requirements in the preceding section have teeth.
76.8.4 A Marketing Case Without Fabrication
Both sequences above turn on questioned data, and both were resolved—to the extent they were resolved—by retraction. That is the vivid failure mode, and it is not the common one. Marketing’s own best-documented episode involves no allegation of fabricated data, no retraction, and no misconduct finding, and it is arguably the more instructive case for exactly that reason.
The claim was that portfolios formed on customer-satisfaction scores earn abnormal stock returns (Fornell et al. 2006; Aksoy et al. 2008; Fornell, Morgeson, and Hult 2016b). Five independent teams failed to reproduce it: Jacobson and Mizik (2009b) and Jacobson and Mizik (2009a) located the effect in a handful of technology firms, Ittner, Larcker, and Taylor (2009) found nothing under standard multifactor asset-pricing tests, O’Sullivan, Hutchinson, and O’Connell (2009) found nothing after standard risk adjustment, and Bell, Ledoit, and Wolf (2014) reopened how the portfolios should be formed at all. When the argument returned to the Journal of Marketing in 2016, the journal published the critiques in the same issue as the claim (Kumar 2016; Sorescu and Sorescu 2016; Bharadwaj and Mitra 2016; Fornell, Morgeson, and Hult 2016a). Two of those commentaries report that they could not evaluate the result at all, because the trading strategy on which it rested had not been disclosed. The strategy was productized as a publicly traded fund launched weeks after publication, so the claim has since accumulated a decade of live out-of-sample record. Section 4.6.1 assembles the full record; Section 4.6.3 supplies the meta-analytic magnitudes against which the headline should have been read.
Several features of this episode are worth a reviewer’s attention. Nothing in it required anyone to fabricate anything: an undisclosed estimator, a threshold chosen without justification, and a sample window that happened to contain an unusual era are sufficient on their own. The published exchange, which looks like the system working, is also what allowed the dispute to close without resolution—printing both sides substitutes the appearance of adjudication for adjudication itself. And the affirmative and null results are asymmetrically distributed across research groups, which is information a reader should weigh and a citation count will not reveal.
The episode also shows where financial-interest information actually surfaced. The fund’s SEC registration statement discloses that its adviser was also its index provider and that a named individual—the creator of the underlying measure and an author of the studies establishing its predictive power—held a controlling interest in both the adviser and the index organization (Section 4.6.1 quotes the filing). Securities regulation compelled that disclosure to investors, and it is public. Whether an equivalent statement would reach a reader of the journal articles depends on a journal’s disclosure policy, and marketing has historically asked less here than medicine does. The reviewer’s question is the one the submission form may not pose: does any author hold a financial position that gains value if this specific result is believed, and would a reader be able to find that out? As elsewhere in this section, the book asserts no verdict on any person’s conduct; the public record consists of the published papers, the published commentaries, and a fund’s reported performance, and it is sufficient for the methodological point. The remedies are the ones this chapter has already argued for: disclosed estimation procedures, preregistered portfolio-formation rules, and out-of-sample tests as a condition of publication rather than an afterthought.
76.8.5 How the Field Argues in Public
The satisfaction episode is unusual in scale but not in kind. Marketing conducts a surprising amount of its quality control in the open, through a genre most readers never encounter because it sits in the back pages: the published comment, the rejoinder, and the erratum. A doctoral student who has never read one should, because this is where the field’s methodological standards are actually set—not in editorials about rigor, but in specific people telling specific people that a specific equation is wrong, under their own names, permanently, with a DOI.
Three sequences, each a matched pair or triad published by the journal itself. As elsewhere in this chapter, the account states what was published and when; the substance of who is right is left to the papers.
A commentary, answered in one page. Amaldoss and He (2013) publish Pricing Prototypical Products in 2013. Twelve years later S. Li, Pu, and Zheng (2025) publish a commentary disputing the result, and Amaldoss and He (2025) answer in a rejoinder whose title is itself the disagreement stated as a question—Can a Prototypical Product Be Priced Lower Than a Nonprototypical Product? The rejoinder occupies a single page (page 728). Note the interval: a published analytical result sat for over a decade before anyone put a challenge to it in print.
An erratum on somebody else’s model. Shulman, Cunha, and Saint Clair (2015) publish Consumer Uncertainty and Purchase Decision Reversals in 2015. In 2025 the journal publishes He and Li (2025)—an erratum, written not by the original authors but by two unaffiliated researchers, and titled, in the journal’s own table of contents, Erratum on “Purchase Decision Reversals” Model by Shulman et al. (2015). The original authors reply on the following page (Shulman, Cunha, and Saint Clair 2025). This genre is worth pausing on: it is a third party formally entering the record to state that a published model contains an error, a correction mechanism most fields have no established route for at all.
The same pattern in JMR. Bumbaca, Misra, and Rossi (2020) publish a distributed MCMC method for Bayesian hierarchical models in 2020. Braun (2024) revisits it in a commentary four years later; Bumbaca, Misra, and Rossi (2025) reply the following year. Again the reply runs two pages.
Three structural features recur. The lag between claim and challenge is measured in years, sometimes more than a decade, because writing a comment is unrewarded work. The rejoinder is nearly always shorter than the commentary, and often a single page. And the journal publishes both and moves on, without adjudicating—the same feature visible in Section 76.8.4, where an unresolved dispute was closed by printing both sides. A reader who wants to know which party was right must still do the work themselves.
The credibility revolution reached marketing’s own journals as retractions rather than as debate. Only the public record is described here: what the journals published, and when. Nothing below characterizes any person’s conduct, and where responsibility has been contested or litigated, the book takes no position (see the two sequences above).
Journal of Marketing Research published three separate retraction notices during 2022.2 The Journal of Consumer Research retracted Super Size Me: Product Size as a Signal of Status in 2023 (Journal of Consumer Research 2023), and issued an unusually dense run of errata and corrigenda across 2021 and 2022.
Two observations for a reviewer. First, the volume of errata is as informative as the retractions: a correction notice is what a journal issues when something is wrong but the finding survives, and a sudden cluster of them indicates that people started checking. Second, none of this machinery is triggered by peer review, which had already passed on every one of these papers. It is triggered by post-publication scrutiny of data that authors were, increasingly, required to post. That is the argument for the transparency requirements in Section 76.7 stated as an outcome rather than a principle.
76.8.6 When the Referee Is a Model
Every failure narrated so far was found by a human reading a paper. The newest argument in the field is about whether that will remain true, and it is the one live controversy in this chapter whose outcome is still undetermined at the time of writing. It belongs here rather than in Chapter 68 because the object under dispute is not a method but the review process itself: the same pipeline drawn in Figure 76.1, with a language model inserted at one of its gates.
A proposal to put language models inside peer review, published with three partly dissenting commentaries printed behind it in the same issue, and without a rejoinder from the authors. The sequence matters, because the evidence that the proposal is hard to implement safely was already on the record three months before the proposal appeared in print.
2022–2026 — the load. Organization Science convenes an AI task force and reports its findings as an editorial. Gartenberg et al. (2026) document a 42 percent rise in submission volume since the public release of ChatGPT in late 2022, alongside declining writing quality that they attribute primarily to AI-generated content, and the same pattern in the reviews themselves: AI-drafted referee reports show lower writing quality and less topical diversity than human-written ones. Their conclusion is a diagnosis, not a remedy—that current tools, amplified by publish-or-perish incentives, are pushing the system toward an equilibrium of more rather than better research.
2023–2025 — why it is shadow AI. Wang and Gong (2025) analyse the AI policies of 439 high-impact and 363 middle-impact journals and find that 83 percent of the high-impact set have written guidance, converging on a narrow permission: transparency, human oversight, and AI restricted to auxiliary tasks such as grammar checking or reviewer finding. The binding constraint is confidentiality. A manuscript under review is not the referee’s to disclose, and uploading it to a third-party model is disclosure. That is the rule the later evidence is measured against, and it is why undisclosed use has a name.
July 2025 — the exploit. Nikkei Asia reports on 1 July that preprints from institutions in eight countries carry text hidden from human readers—white type, microscopic point size—instructing any language model that processes the file to return a positive review only. Lin (2026) catalogues eighteen such manuscripts and classifies four distinct prompt designs, from a bare instruction to a full substitute evaluation rubric. The episode establishes the premise that everything after it argues about: some referees were already feeding manuscripts to models, or authors would not have bothered addressing the models directly.
November 2025 — the measurement. Pangram Labs applies a trained detector to roughly 70,000 reviews submitted to ICLR 2026 and reports that 21 percent are fully machine-generated, with more than half showing some degree of AI involvement. The vendor reports a false-positive rate on the order of one in 10,000 and validates against 2022 reviews as a negative control. This is a commercial detection product reporting on its own accuracy, and should be read with that in mind; it is cited here as the first attempt to put a number on undisclosed use, not as a settled one.
March 2026 — the number is contested. Saha et al. (2026) make the objection that the measurement invites. Journal policies do not forbid all model use by referees; they forbid everything except polishing, paraphrasing, and grammar correction of an otherwise human-written report. Distinguishing a polished human review from a generated one is therefore the discrimination that matters, and the authors build a dataset spanning degrees of human–AI collaboration and run five detectors against it. All five flag some merely-polished reviews as machine-generated, none is accurate enough to support an accusation, and their conclusion is that public estimates of policy violation are overstated because detectors cannot separate the permitted case from the prohibited one. The book’s own pattern applies: as with the replication rate in Section 76.8.1, the headline number was contested before the debate that quotes it had finished.
June 2026 — the audits. Two independent teams test whether an AI reviewer can be moved without changing any scientific content. L. Li et al. (2026) rewrite only the abstract—no new results, no methodological change, no knowledge of the reviewing model—and report an attack success rate near 38 percent, with ratings rising 1.31 points for one reviewer model and 0.88 for another on a ten-point scale, and above 50 percent success when the original AI review had recommended rejection. They price the attack at about five minutes and one dollar per submission. Yang et al. (2026) go further, running a closed loop that feeds the AI reviewer’s own feedback back into presentation-level revisions—abstract, contribution framing, related work, discussion—while holding methods, figures, proofs, and numbers fixed. Across three mainstream AI reviewers they report a 75.1 percent success rate and a mean gain of 1.21 points out of ten, and note that repositioning related work outperforms surface polishing. Their characterization of the failure mode is the one a referee should remember: the models are easier to impress than to convince, and they confuse a limitation being addressed with a limitation being resolved.
September 2026 — the proposal. Bhargava et al. (2026) publish Fighting Fire with Fire in Management Science, arguing that the answer to AI-accelerated submission volume is not to keep AI out but to bring it inside where it can be governed. Their design is deliberately narrow: a model acts as a structured front-end diagnostic on clarity, method, and internal inconsistency; it issues no accept-or-reject recommendation; its assessment is disclosed to authors for response before human referees see the paper; human referees and editors retain authority throughout; and every use is logged and auditable within journal infrastructure rather than happening privately on a referee’s laptop. They model review as an information-processing system under a capacity constraint, and the argument’s sharpest point is that the AI signal does not need to beat a human to help—a noisier signal still improves the system if it reallocates scarce expert attention. They also name the principal risk themselves: if every referee reads the same machine assessment, their judgments become correlated, and the system acquires a shared blind spot it did not previously have.3
September 2026 — three commentaries, same issue. Management Science prints all three immediately behind the target article, on pages 7394 through 7398. Dai (2026) concedes the governance point—open governance beats shadow use—and rejects the premise: rising submission volume is not an existential threat, human fatigue with derivative work is a more discerning detector than any model, and a system trained on what the field has already rewarded cannot recognize the novelty the field claims to want. His test for any proposed tool is a single question, does it ask more of human judgment or less. Jiang (2026) agrees that the real question is not whether AI enters review but whether its use stays informal and hidden or becomes transparent and accountable, then lists what the proposal does not resolve: who is answerable when the model is wrong, how authors perceive procedural fairness, and where the line now falls between objective checking and evaluative judgment. Terwiesch (2026) makes the structural objection. Improving referee throughput preserves an architecture that AI has arguably made optional, and building a faster version of the existing process is building a better fax machine rather than asking what scientific communication should look like now.
No rejoinder. The issue closes at page 7398. The authors did not reply in print.
Three observations for a reviewer. First, note what nobody in the exchange disputes. Not one of the four pieces argues that AI should be kept out of review entirely, and not one argues that it should decide anything. The consensus is narrower and more useful than the disagreement: undisclosed private use is the worst available option, and final authority stays human. Second, the audits and the proposal answer different questions, which is why both can be right. Bhargava et al. (2026) model the review system’s throughput under load; L. Li et al. (2026) and Yang et al. (2026) test an AI reviewer’s robustness against an author who is optimizing against it. A front-end diagnostic that authors see and respond to is, by construction, a diagnostic that authors can optimize against, and the audits put a price on doing so. Third, this is the chapter’s cleanest live instance of the pattern described in Section 76.8.5: a journal printing every side and adjudicating none of them. Unlike every other episode in this chapter, you can still watch this one resolve.
76.8.7 A Tour of Marketing’s Methodological Debates
A marketing referee evaluates work across an unusually wide methodological range, and several long-running debates recur often enough that a reviewer should be able to frame each one neutrally, recognizing both the contribution and its standard critique rather than mechanically penalizing a method some camp dislikes. Each debate below is stated in two or three sentences and forwarded to the chapter where it properly lives; the home chapters develop them in full.
Structural versus reduced-form modeling. Should a study estimate the primitives of a behavioral or economic model (structural), enabling counterfactual and welfare simulation, or prioritize clean identification of a specific causal effect through design and quasi-experiment (reduced-form)? The economics credibility revolution (Angrist and Pischke 2010) sharpened design-based inference, while structural advocates (Chintagunta et al. 2006) argue structural models answer policy questions reduced-form cannot, with internal cautions on both sides about weak instruments (Rossi 2014) and undisciplined structural assumptions (Mazzeo et al. 2006). The causal-inference and structural-modeling chapters develop the trade-off.
Formative versus reflective measurement. In reflective measurement the latent construct causes its indicators; in formative measurement the indicators compose the construct, so dropping one changes its meaning, and misspecifying the direction biases structural estimates (Bollen and Lennox 1991; Jarvis, MacKenzie, and Podsakoff 2003; Diamantopoulos, Riefler, and Roth 2008). A skeptical strand questions whether formative “constructs” are latent variables at all and proposes content-validity-first alternatives (Rossiter 2002). This debate is developed where constructs and variables are distinguished (Chapter 3) and in the measurement-scales chapter.
The PLS-SEM controversy. Partial Least Squares path modeling is popular in some marketing subfields and distrusted in others; critics argue it lacks a true latent-variable model and yields biased estimates with unreliable fit heuristics (Rönkkö and Evermann 2013), while proponents reply that the critiques target outdated versions and that PLS suits prediction-oriented, formative, and small-sample work (Henseler et al. 2014). This is an unusually clean critique-plus-rejoinder exchange in one journal, developed in the structural-models chapter.
Measuring advertising returns. Can observational attribution methods recover the causal effect of advertising on sales, or are large randomized experiments effectively required? Evidence that ad effects are tiny relative to sales variance (Lewis and Rao 2015), that brand-keyword paid search delivered near-zero incremental value in a large field experiment (Blake, Nosko, and Tadelis 2015), and that observational methods diverge substantially from experimental benchmarks (Gordon et al. 2019) pushes toward experiments for incrementality, while attribution modeling (H. (Alice). Li and Kannan 2014; Berman 2018) remains useful for allocation under stated assumptions. The advertising and causal-inference chapters develop the convergence.
The nudge-effectiveness debate. How large and reliable are choice-architecture “nudge” effects in aggregate? A 2021 meta-analysis reported a moderate positive average effect (Mertens et al. 2022), while reanalyses argued that the effect is not distinguishable from zero once publication bias is modeled (Maier et al. 2022) and that heterogeneity precludes expecting uniform effects (Szaszi et al. 2022). This is as much a dispute about meta-analytic method as about nudges, and it is developed in the nudges chapter.
Mediation-analysis critiques. Bootstrap and Baron-Kenny-style mediation from observational designs is ubiquitous in consumer research, but critics argue that without experimental manipulation of the mediator a mediation claim is causally unidentified (Bullock, Green, and Ha 2010), while a constructive-reform position urges better practice (manipulated mediators, moderation-of-process, sensitivity analysis) rather than abandonment (Pieters 2017). The causal-inference chapter develops the identification requirements.
The common-method-bias debate. When predictor and outcome come from the same respondent at one time, shared method can inflate observed correlations; one position catalogs this as a serious, pervasive threat requiring design and statistical remedies (Podsakoff et al. 2003), while another argues the blanket assumption is overstated and that some popular post-hoc corrections do more harm than good (Spector 2006). The surveys and measurement-scales chapters develop the practical safeguards.
Online-panel and MTurk data quality. Crowdsourced samples democratized data collection but raised concerns about non-naivete, inattentive responding, and bots; early validations argued the data are reliable and diverse (Buhrmester, Kwang, and Gosling 2011; Paolacci and Chandler 2014), later work documented worker non-naivete (Chandler, Mueller, and Paolacci 2014), and a recent exchange disputes whether alarming invalid-response rates reflect inherent platform failure (Webb and Tangney 2022) or remediable design and screening choices (Keith and McKay 2024). The surveys and data chapters develop the concrete safeguards (attention checks, geolocation and bot screening, preregistered exclusion rules).
76.8.8 An Index of the Book’s Documented Controversies
Each debate above, and several episodes not on that list, is developed somewhere in this book as a Controversy callout: a dated, chronological account of what was published, by whom, and in what order, with every claim traceable to a cited source. Table 76.5 is the index. It is worth reading straight through at least once, because the recurring structural features—the years-long lag before anyone writes a comment, the reply that is shorter than the attack, the journal that prints both sides and adjudicates nothing—say more about how the field actually self-corrects than any single dispute does.
| Controversy | Chapter | What kind of failure |
|---|---|---|
| Common method bias: how much does it matter? | Chapter 3 | Target article, two adjacent commentaries |
| The satisfaction anomaly, 1994–2026 | Section 4.6.1 | Unreplicated claim, undisclosed estimator |
| Net Promoter: the one number | Chapter 4 | Practitioner claim, disconfirmed and adopted anyway |
| SERVQUAL vs. SERVPERF | Section 6.3 | Measure that lost the argument and kept the users |
| Advertising returns without an experiment | Chapter 13 | Commercially load-bearing method, weak identification |
| The constructive format (IJRM 31(1)) | Chapter 13 | Two teams, mutual commentaries, same issue |
| How big is a nudge? | Chapter 19 | Meta-analysis vs. two reanalyses, one year |
| Formative constructs: are they constructs? | Chapter 38 | Ontological, so no dataset resolves it |
| PLS-SEM and what counts as a latent variable | Section 38.2.5 | Critique and reply, same journal |
| Is MTurk broken, or is your screening? | Section 39.4 | Attribution: platform failure or study design |
| Structural vs. reduced-form | Section 37.1 | Two camps answering different questions |
| Observational mediation | Section 43.8 | Ubiquitous procedure, untestable assumption |
| Distributed MCMC for hierarchical Bayes | Section 44.1.7 | Methods claim, challenge, short reply |
| Duelling in the back pages | Section 76.8.5 | Comment, erratum on another team’s model, rejoinder |
| The retraction wave, 2021–2023 | Section 76.8.4 | Post-publication scrutiny, not peer review |
| What is consumer research? | Section 62.2.1 | A schism about what counts as a contribution |
| Money priming, across four papers | Section 62.2.12 | Vote counting is not evidence aggregation |
| Too many options, and the jam study | Chapter 12 | A vivid effect that turned out conditional |
| Is there a reservation price to measure? | Chapter 40 | The construct the instrument presumes |
| Can you estimate a Bass model pre-peak? | Chapter 27 | In-sample fit is not forecasting ability |
| Does differentiation do anything? | Section 11.3 | A tradition that disputes the chapter’s premise |
| Does the machinery beat a rule of thumb? | Chapter 16 | Benchmark against the naive alternative |
| The EDLP experiment that went the wrong way | Chapter 20 | A sound mechanism, the wrong policy inference |
| Which reference-price model is right? | Section 20.5 | A construct whose operationalization never converged |
| Do loyalty programs create loyalty? | Chapter 15 | Evidence that looks the same either way |
| Does the recovery paradox happen? | Section 21.6 | A regularity that holds only under conditions |
| Is service-dominant logic a theory? | Chapter 21 | A lens is not a warrant |
| Contracts and trust: substitutes or complements? | Section 65.3 | One construct, two dimensions, opposite signs |
| The long tail, and what recommenders did to it | Chapter 12 | Two links in the chain run opposite ways |
| Who fakes reviews, and detecting it | Chapter 12 | Identifying a deliberately concealed behavior |
| The externalities a platform does not price | Chapter 69 | Optimizing your own sides misses the rest |
Marketing does not generate its methods from scratch, and it did not generate its methodological crisis from scratch either. Sixteen further episodes, imported from the neighbouring fields, are narrated where the relevant method is taught, because a marketing student inherits these arguments along with the tools.
| Controversy | Field | Chapter | Why it matters here |
|---|---|---|---|
| The paper that broke psychology’s confidence | Psychology | Section 76.8.1 | The trigger for every reform in this chapter |
| How bad is the replication rate? | Psychology | Section 76.8.1 | A fight about the statistic everyone quotes |
| Ego depletion at scale | Psychology | Section 62.2.8 | A generative paradigm, tested properly |
| The spreadsheet that moved fiscal policy | Economics | Chapter 32 | Why the pipeline must be code, not cells |
| The fast-food minimum-wage study | Economics | Section 43.1.2 | Where design-based disputes actually end up |
| Can matching recover an experimental answer? | Economics | Section 43.1.3 | The attribution question, thirty years earlier |
| Efficient markets, and the Nobel that split | Finance | Chapter 25 | The assumption every event study rests on |
| The finance anomaly audit | Finance | Section 25.8.1 | The base rate for any “X predicts returns” claim |
| The significance wars, in order | Statistics | Section 76.8.2 | Three camps, none of which won |
| The two cultures | Statistics | Section 68.1 | Prediction and inference are different jobs |
| Is the resource-based view a theory? | Management | Chapter 25 | The tautology risk in any asset argument |
| How much does industry matter? | Management | Section 10.3 | Variance decompositions are not assumption-free |
| An issue on whether to retire one model | Info. systems | Chapter 27 | What happens when a model becomes infrastructure |
| Do accounting numbers mean what we assume? | Accounting | Section 31.1.4 | Every Compustat control rests on this |
| The bullwhip effect, and measuring it | Operations | Section 65.2 | A real mechanism need not dominate the data |
| Fighting fire with fire | Management / IS | Section 76.8.6 | The dispute is about this chapter’s own subject |
The distribution across both tables is the point. Of forty-seven narrated episodes, exactly one concerns fabricated data. The rest are undisclosed procedures, untestable assumptions, category errors about what a measure is, a formula error in a spreadsheet, claims that outran their evidence, and disagreements that were printed and then left unresolved. Those are the failure modes a referee will actually encounter, and none of them is caught by asking whether the authors are honest.
One further pattern is visible only when the two tables are read together. The economics cases (Section 43.1.3 and Chapter 13) reach the same conclusion about observational versus experimental estimates from completely separate literatures three decades apart, and the psychology cases explain why marketing’s own reforms took the shape they did. A student who reads only the marketing column will mistake local history for the whole argument.
76.9 Key Takeaways
- Reviewing is reciprocal labor that also buys proximity to the frontier and calibration about what makes a paper publishable; record it so it counts.
- The editorial pipeline (Figure 76.1) is a sequence of gates—plagiarism and duplicate checks, editor suitability screening, AE assignment, reviewer synthesis—and most attrition happens at desk screening and the first round.
- A publishable paper must simultaneously offer novelty, relevance, and validity; validity failures are usually fatal because they cannot be reframed away.
- A good report is short, numbered, separates major from minor comments, and closes with a roadmap; it supplies arguments, never a verdict count.
- Review is a measurement problem (Equation 76.1): rater severity and noise make verdicts stochastic, single-rater reliability (Equation 76.2) modest, and categorical agreement (Equation 76.3) typically only fair-to-moderate—which is exactly why journals use multiple reviewers and an argument-weighing editor rather than a vote.
- The credibility revolution (Section 76.8) supplies the modern referee’s failure-mode checklist: forking paths and researcher degrees of freedom inflate false positives, replication rates sit below 100 percent (Figure 76.3), the significance debate (Table 76.3) remains unresolved, and forensic tools (Table 76.4) plus open data are what make independent verification, and the integrity record, possible.
The Journal of Marketing documents its review philosophy and its data-transparency requirements in publicly posted editorial statements. The norms described here—turnaround targets, the criteria reviewers weigh, the structure of a report—are paraphrased from those statements and from the broader editorial practice of the marketing top-4 (JM, JMR, Marketing Science, Journal of Consumer Research).↩︎
Journal of Marketing Research retraction notices, doi:10.1177/00222437221101398, doi:10.1177/00222437221139856, and doi:10.1177/00222437221149006. The notices are cited here only as evidence that the retractions occurred.↩︎
The modelling framing summarized here follows the account published by the UC Davis Graduate School of Management, gsm.ucdavis.edu/blog/fighting-fire-fire-how-ai-can-help-sustain-future-peer-review, alongside the article itself.↩︎