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I grew up academically at a time when social psychology was in the midst of a full-blown replication crisis. When I was starting my PhD, the core theory that I was set on using was soon hailed as the poster child for low replication rates in psychology. Every day during the first year of my PhD, I turned on my computer to find another study showing a failed replication, concerns about research integrity, and reports of data fraud in the literature. This meant that, as an early-career researcher, I had no choice but to confront the emerging issues of research integrity head-on.

Nor was social psychology the only discipline that was feared to be beset by ¡°questionable research practices¡± (QRPs) ¨C which include everything from tweaking a study¡¯s narrative in order to sell a more convincing story to explicit data fabrication and fraud. Substantial measures to address the malaise were evidently called for.

For example, the was established following a by the House of Commons Science and Technology Committee; this body requires universities to publish annual integrity statements. Journals and funders are increasingly mandating open data to facilitate integrity. And in 2024, UK Research and Innovation (UKRI) launched the first government-backed dedicated metascience unit (with ?10 million in funding over its first three years) to apply scientific principles to improve how the UK practises and funds its own research.

Like many eager, bright-eyed early-career researchers, I was initially optimistic that shining the light on dodgy research practices could only make things better. I soon learned, however, that there is more to addressing research integrity than?at first meets the eye. While institutions promote open research as the silver bullet, they often fail to ask what kind of culture we are asking ECRs to be open within.

An initially healthy dialogue kicked off on social media, and senior academics urged us to get involved. But, as so often happens on such platforms, the conversation soon became vitriolic, marked by academic bullying, as early-career colleagues¡¯ honest questions about research practices started to elicit accusations of misconduct.

In 2020, the cognitive scientists Olivia Guest and Kirsty Whitaker , which served as a welcome critique of how the open science movement was reinforcing, rather than dismantling, existing hierarchies in higher education. They argued that instead of fostering inclusion, open research conversations had become performative, punitive, hostile and exclusionary. Five years on, however, this reality still isn¡¯t being taken seriously.

There are data to back this up.??has shown that many ECRs are hesitant to participate in open research practices because of these cultural issues. It is not that they don¡¯t value transparency or don¡¯t want to improve the state of research culture. It is that they fear vulnerability in spaces that do not feel safe.

One participant commented that ¡°open science is a great thing, but more needs to be done to ensure that it is practised with kindness and inclusivity. There are people online who are horrible to researchers (under the guise of open science) who may have just made honest or trivial mistakes¡±. I am often invited to present my research about open science in different institutions, and ECRs regularly slink up to me in the coffee break and share identical perspectives.

Of course, a lot of more senior academics have similar experiences, too, but the sting is particularly felt by ECRs. If you are trying to find your way through unfamiliar academic systems amid rampant precarity and an ever more competitive job market, one hostile encounter may well be enough to turn you away from research. We should not be comfortable with this reality. ?

This is why research integrity urgently needs a ¡°kindness agenda¡±. As scholars and educators, we need to stop treating care and collegiality as optional or as soft skills secondary to the ¡°real work¡± of research. These values are fundamental. Hostility, exclusion and academic bullying should be formally recognised as research integrity issues because they directly impact who gets to succeed and whose voices are silenced.

There is some promising progress. The increased weighting for the revised and renamed ¡°people, culture and environment¡± section of the 2029 Research Excellence Framework, from 15 per cent in 2021 to 25 per cent, will prompt institutions to demonstrate their commitments to equality, diversity and inclusivity ¨C although last week¡¯s announcement by science minister Patrick Vallance of a pause in the REF to make sure we are not ¡°measuring things that we cannot¡± is worrying.

Moreover, while such a top-down institution-level steer would be useful, we need more urgent and local incentives to foster an academic culture of kindness immediately.

This would mean building policies and practices, at every level, that support not only rigorous research but humane and compassionate interactions with one another: the values of collegiality, care and thoughtfulness that open research claims to promote. It could involve, as a starting point, establishing clear protections against bullying and harassment, having transparent reporting and whistle-blowing procedures for ECRs, and rewarding collaboration and mutual support.

The stakes are high. If we continue to neglect the social and emotional realities of research, we will continue to lose talent. If we fail to embed care, empathy and kindness into our understanding of what gives research integrity, we risk alienating the very people we need most, and all progress will halt.

is an associate professor in the School of Psychology at the University of Leeds.