Publish or perish? Let’s Choose Purpose Over Paper Count
Let me guess! Your university measures success like Call of Duty, but instead of bullets, we are firing research papers. One academic proudly says that they published 80 papers last year. Another brags about an h-index which is so long. Impressive? Sure. But did any of that work actually make a difference?
Welcome to academia………where the obsession with metrics has gone off the rails.
In many universities, the message is loud and clear: publish or perish. But somewhere along the way, we have forgotten why we started this journey in the first place. Somewhere between formatting citations and chasing journal rankings, we have lost our sense of purpose. We have turned academia into a publishing factory, not a place of discovery, but a conveyor belt of content.
Need a promotion? Better crank out three more papers in high-ranked journals.
Want funding? Show them your publication list, bonus points if the titles are longer than your CV.
Looking for recognition? Make sure your h-index is trending upward like a TikTok dance challenge.
But here is the question no one dares ask during faculty meetings, “Are these papers actually making a difference, or just padding our resumes?”
Let us be honest. There is no shortage of studies on leadership styles, organisational behaviour, or digital transformation in supply chains. But how many of those papers have actually changed how companies lead, behave, or operate? I bet you can count the truly impactful ones on one hand and still have fingers left to hold your tea or coffee.
The truth is, when the goal becomes the paper and not the problem, we lose sight of what really matters. We end up with research that sounds smart in abstracts but disappears faster than a free cake in the faculty lounge. Meanwhile, real businesses are struggling with burnout, inequality, sustainability, and AI integration, and we are off writing the relationship between several unrelated factors using bulk data because… well, it is easier to get published.
You design a study not because you care deeply about the issue, but because you know it will get accepted in a decent journal. It is research done for the sake of ticking boxes, not transforming minds or markets. And yes, I have been guilty of it too. We all want career growth, recognition, maybe even a fancy title. But shouldn’t our work be about something bigger than our next promotion?
Shouldn’t we be asking:
• “Will this paper help a manager lead better teams?”
• “Could this framework reduce burnout in organisations?”
• “Might this insight help small businesses survive a crisis?”
Or are we just hoping someone cites us, so our h-index gets a little bump?
What If We Measured Impact Differently? What if instead of counting papers, we started measuring how many managers actually used our frameworks? What if we tracked how many students said, “This changed how I think about leadership”? What if we celebrated when a company implemented our ideas and saw real results?
Research should be about people, not page counts. It should be messy, passionate, and sometimes even a little controversial. It should speak of real struggles in boardrooms and break rooms alike. It should make readers say, “Oh, so that’s why my team isn’t performing,” or “This explains why our strategy keeps failing.”
Let us write less for citation bots and more for human beings. Let us stop hiding behind jargon and complex models that only impress other academics. Let us bring clarity, empathy, and relevance back into management research. Let us remember that behind every data point is a person, a stressed-out manager, a frustrated employee, a founder trying to keep the lights on.
Our job is not just to analyse organisations. It is to help them thrive.
To my fellow academics…… Let us shift the narrative. Let us value depth over duplication. Let us reward impact over index numbers. Let us celebrate work that does not just get cited but gets used. Let us mentor our students not just to become publishing machines, but to become changemakers. Let us build bridges between theory and practice. And let us remind ourselves daily that our greatest contribution is not a paper. It is a better organisation, a stronger leader, a more equitable workplace.
So, the next time you sit down to write a paper, ask yourself: “Is this going to matter in the real world, or just in my bibliography?” Because at the end of the day, no one will remember how many papers you wrote. But they might remember how your work helped them lead better, manage smarter, or sleep a little easier at night. And that, dear colleagues, is the kind of legacy worth publishing.

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