The Cost of Miscommunication: A Story of Authorship and Unspoken Assumptions

Here on LinkedIn, we often celebrate our successes and milestones, but seldom do we delve into the challenges that teach us invaluable lessons. Have you ever considered how a lapse in communication can impact a collaborative effort? I'd like to share an experience where I faced such a challenge, hoping it sheds light on the importance of keeping everyone in the loop and how others can learn from my mistakes.

I was working on a project with a clinical colleague on an internally funded grant aimed ad simplifying a clinical workflow. (I’m intentionally keeping this vague for anonymity’s sake) Throughout the project, I identified, developed, tested, and wrote a paper on a new method I developed in support of our project. I didn’t use any data or insight from my colleague. This involved multiple weekly meetings with stakeholders and other team members. Some additional team members explored ways to make my approach better, and they succeeded. We were all happy.

That’s where things started to get hairy. My version of “we” was the team who contributed to this invention - rather than everyone in our weekly meetings.? I coordinated with each of these individual contributors, and we wrote a paper on the matter. But I failed to keep it on everyone else’s radar. Sure, I mentioned it at a meting or two, but I never really ensured everyone really understood the ramifications. Sometimes people miss meetings, and if it’s only mentioned once or twice, it’s likely not everyone picks up on it. We never took meeting notes, so there wasn’t any record of it, so it becomes a “he said, she said” situation.

Regardless, one of the people who was not fully informed was the PI of the grant that funded the work. They only found out about the paper after submission, and let’s just say they were (rightfully) not happy. As corresponding author, it was my responsibility to ensure the entire team was aware of what was going on, but I failed. Many members of the team go their feelings hurt because they felt out of the loop, like there were multiple teams. Some even thought they should have been an author, or at least been given the option of authorship.

Here's the sticky wicket. The paper in question was data science focused, but not clinical lab focused. None of the data generated, analyzed, or interpreted involved the clinical team. No clinical data was used. The idea was a technical concept that was sufficiently novel and warranted publication because it created a new way of thinking about a common problem. As the lead author, it was my responsibility to ensure that everyone that met criteria of being an author was appropriately recognized. I felt (and still feel) like those that made a substantive contribution to the manuscript were listed as authors. This was to the exclusion of many others in the group – including the grant PI.

In this regard, I don’t feel like I did anything wrong. The ICMJE Authorship Guidelines are quite clear to me, which are:

• Substantial contributions to the conception or design of the work; or the acquisition, analysis, or interpretation of data for the work; AND
• Drafting the work or reviewing it critically for important intellectual content; AND
• Final approval of the version to be published; AND
• Agreement to be accountable for all aspects of the work in ensuring that questions related to the accuracy or integrity of any part of the work are appropriately investigated and resolved.

Agreement to be accountable for all aspects of the work in ensuring that questions related to the accuracy or integrity of any part of the work are appropriately investigated and resolved.

Furthermore, Section 3 explicitly calls out the discussion of funding

Examples of activities that alone (without other contributions) do not qualify a contributor for authorship are acquisition of funding; general supervision of a research group or general administrative support; and writing assistance, technical editing, language editing, and proofreading.

This means that being the Principal Investigator (PI) of a grant—or the person who secured the funding for the project—does not automatically confer authorship rights. Authorship is reserved for those who have made substantial intellectual contributions to the work. In other words, while the PI plays a crucial role in facilitating the research by obtaining funding and possibly overseeing the project, these contributions alone do not meet the ICMJE criteria for authorship. For people like me, this is very straightforward. I tend to see things as black and white, discreet and objective. But, as I learned, the real-world is full of gray areas.

These guidelines, if not discussed with the group up front, may come as a surprise to those who have spent less time publishing papers. It can lead to misunderstandings, hurt feelings, angst, and are highly detrimental to a cohesive collaborative working environment. In many circles, it is customary (and often expected) for a PI to be listed as an author. In my case, I was going against the cultural norm and therefore should have been more proactive in communicating my expectations to the team from the very beginning.

As cliché as it sounds, too much communication is never a bad thing.

I racked my brain about how this could have all been handled differently, had I been a better communicator. No matter how the scenario played out in my head, I would still have to have those difficult conversations regarding authorship and what it means to substantively contribute to scientific knowledge. Someone’s feelings will always get hurt and you will not always agree. I would still have severe anxiety about how others perceive my understanding. Because I see the Authorship Guidelines as ethical principles, I know my hard headedness would not change the outcome. The major difference is the feeling of mistrust between the collaboration team could have been minimized if an opportunity was given before any action was taken. I know that now.

In sharing this experience, I've come to understand that effective communication is just as vital as the work itself. While I adhered to the formal guidelines on authorship, I overlooked the human element—the feelings and expectations of my colleagues. Moving forward, I will strive to engage in open and proactive dialogues with my team, ensuring everyone is informed and has the opportunity to contribute or express concerns.

I share this story not only to reflect on my own growth but also in the hope that others can learn from my experience. Mistakes, misunderstandings, and conflict are inevitable, but they offer valuable lessons. By prioritizing clear communication and addressing potential issues upfront, we can hopefully foster stronger, more collaborative relationships. After all, our collective success depends not just on individual contributions but on the strength of our teamwork and mutual understanding.

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