“Can you take a quick look at this manuscript before we send it for review?”

Not long ago, that question usually meant checking whether a submission fit the journal’s scope, whether the files were complete, and whether reviewers could be invited.

Today, a “quick look” often involves a different set of questions. Is the corresponding author’s email legitimate? Do the affiliations match previous publications? Does the similarity report indicate plagiarism or routine methodological overlap? Are the figures authentic? Has the use of generative AI been disclosed? Are the suggested reviewers genuine researchers? Does the manuscript display patterns associated with paper mills or citation manipulation?

Only after those questions have been considered does the manuscript begin its scientific evaluation.

The transition has been so gradual that many of us barely notice it. Yet editorial work has expanded far beyond assessing the quality of research. Increasingly, journals are expected to verify the reliability of the processes behind it.

This evolution is both understandable and necessary. Sophisticated misconduct, artificial intelligence, and growing expectations around transparency have changed the landscape of scholarly publishing. Stronger safeguards protect the integrity of the scholarly record.

What receives far less attention is what those safeguards demand from the people responsible for applying them.

Editorial Work Doesn’t Get Replaced — It Accumulates

One of the defining characteristics of editorial work is that responsibilities rarely disappear. When new integrity measures are introduced, they do not replace existing tasks; they are added alongside them. Editors still recruit reviewers, assess revisions, communicate with authors, make publication decisions, and work to improve the quality and visibility of their journals. At the same time, they are now expected to investigate image concerns, evaluate AI disclosures, verify reviewer identities, respond to integrity allegations, document increasingly complex decisions, and navigate policies that scarcely existed a decade ago. The profession has not been reinvented overnight, but it has expanded steadily, almost imperceptibly, through accumulation.

Perhaps because this change has occurred incrementally, it has received surprisingly little discussion. Conversations about research integrity often focus on what journals should do, and rightly so. Publishers, editors, and organizations have invested significant effort in establishing standards that improve transparency and strengthen trust in the published literature. What is discussed less frequently is the capacity required to meet those expectations consistently. Editorial offices have not simply adopted new technologies; they have absorbed entirely new categories of work without necessarily gaining additional time, staff, or specialist expertise.

This is particularly evident in smaller journals, where a handful of editors or editorial staff may manage hundreds of submissions while balancing editorial responsibilities with academic or clinical careers. Larger publishers increasingly support dedicated research integrity teams, image specialists, and investigative units, but many society journals and independent publications continue to rely on relatively small editorial offices expected to uphold the same standards.

The expectation of integrity is universal, but the capacity to deliver it is far from uniform.

Detection is Only the Beginning

Technology has undoubtedly transformed the way journals identify potential concerns. Similarity detection software, image analysis tools, citation monitoring, and AI-assisted screening have become indispensable components of modern editorial workflows. Their contribution, however, is often misunderstood. These technologies rarely provide answers; they identify questions that require human judgment.

Software identifies similarity.
People decide whether it represents plagiarism or legitimate overlap.

Software flags an image.
People determine whether the anomaly reflects manipulation, an honest error, or an entirely innocent explanation.

Software detects unusual citation patterns.
People investigate context, intent, and evidence.

Every alert begins another editorial process. Every report requires interpretation. Every interpretation generates correspondence with authors, reviewers, institutions, or publishers. Every exchange requires documentation because today’s decisions may become tomorrow’s investigations. Technology has unquestionably improved publishing’s ability to identify potential problems, but it has not reduced the need for editorial expertise. If anything, it has made that expertise more valuable because the difficult decisions begin where automated detection ends.

The Cost We Rarely Measure

Scholarly publishing has become remarkably good at measuring performance. Journals routinely monitor submission volumes, turnaround times, reviewer engagement, citation performance, corrections, retractions, and an expanding range of research integrity indicators. These metrics provide valuable insights into the health of editorial processes, yet one resource remains surprisingly absent from the conversation: editorial capacity.

Every integrity investigation competes with another editorial responsibility. Time devoted to resolving an authorship dispute is time that cannot be spent improving reviewer engagement or supporting authors. Hours invested in evaluating image reports are hours unavailable for commissioning content, mentoring new editors, or developing journal strategy. None of these trade-offs appear in annual reports or dashboard metrics, but they shape the everyday reality of editorial offices across scholarly publishing. The hidden cost of trust is therefore not simply measured in software licences or new technologies. It is measured in editorial attention, the finite resource upon which every safeguard ultimately depends.

Looking Beyond the Next Integrity Check

Over the past decade, scholarly publishing has made significant progress in strengthening research integrity. The community has developed better policies, better technologies, and better mechanisms for identifying concerns before they become part of the published record. That progress deserves recognition and continued investment. At the same time, the conversation about integrity may now need to evolve beyond the next policy update or screening tool and consider the people expected to make those systems work.

Research integrity is, and always will be, an ethical responsibility. Increasingly, however, it is also an operational one. The effectiveness of every policy ultimately depends on editors and editorial staff who investigate concerns carefully, interpret evidence fairly, communicate difficult decisions professionally, and apply judgment where no software can. As expectations continue to grow, journals will need more than stronger policies and better technologies. They will need sufficient editorial capacity to implement them consistently and responsibly.

If protecting trust remains one of scholarly publishing’s highest priorities, then investing in the people who sustain that trust should become one as well.