A recent ICRA panel titled “Surviving the Paper Deluge” brought together leading robotics researchers who have grappled with the overwhelming number of robotics papers being published today.
The discussion ranged from hard numbers on publication growth, through the promises and risks of large language models (LLMs), to radical proposals for reshaping peer review as we know it.
Panel chair Aude Billard pointed to rapid growth across major IEEE Robotics and Automation Society venues, with a roughly exponential curve beginning around 2017. An estimate for 2025 suggests around 70,000 papers containing the word “robotics.”
Billard noted that while in some fields, extreme specialization may be an acceptable survival strategy, robotics is inherently different. A robot is an integration of perception, control, manipulation, learning, hardware, interaction, safety, and deployment. If researchers can only stay current within narrow silos, the field risks losing one of its core strengths: the ability to connect ideas across domains.
Kunpeng Yao presented a case study funded by IEEE RAS Science and Technology Watch Board. The team tried to do something that borders on heroic in today’s publishing environment; that is, reading an entire subfield carefully over a single year.
Focusing on papers related to learning from demonstration, the team searched IEEE Xplore for relevant 2024 papers, screened the results manually, and identified 347 relevant papers. Of those, only 69, or about 20 percent, were judged to have made notable contributions.
According to the criteria used, ‘notable’ papers tended to offer new formulations, mechanisms, or theoretical guarantees; serious comparisons against strong state of the art; clear gains in robustness, transfer, or failure recovery; new teaching or data collection modalities; and convincing real-robot validation. Papers were less compelling when they simply relabelled existing approaches or failed to demonstrate their claims.
Yao summarized one lesson neatly: notability should be judged against the state of the art, not against “the newest vocabulary.”
That distinction is of particular importance in a field where new labels can travel quickly and a paper may sound fresh without actually moving the frontier. Conversely, useful work is sometimes hidden in less fashionable venues or written by less visible groups.
One question is whether large language models can help with literature review. Nadia Figueroa explained that LLMs can improve the mechanics of literature review. That is, they can help with search, retrieval, clustering, tables, summaries, and rough conceptual maps. Work that once took weeks or months can now sometimes be done in hours. For a new PhD student entering a field, that is a genuine reduction in the barrier to entry.
But Figueroa also identified hallucination as a major issue. First-order hallucination involves fake or incorrect references. More subtle is second-order hallucination, where the reference is real but the model misstates what the paper actually did. Also dangerous is third-order hallucination, where the LLM invents plausible but false commonalities across papers.
“The danger currently is not fake citations,” observed Figueroa. “It’s fake understanding.”
An LLM-based literature review can contain real papers and still misrepresent the field. It can be fluent, structured, and wrong. If researchers outsource not just the mechanics of reading but the cognitive act of comparison, judgment, and doubt, the field may produce more text while developing less understanding.
Meanwhile, Greg Dudek described the familiar problem of “salami slicing,” where a larger body of work is divided into “the thinnest possible slices” and spread across workshops, conferences, and journals.
For Dudek, the system rewards this behaviour. Students need papers to graduate. Early-career researchers need papers for jobs. Committees often face too much material to read deeply, so titles, venues, counts, and indices become tempting shortcuts.
But the result is costly for readers. Multiple papers repeat the same background, divide one contribution into fragments, and make it harder to reconstruct the full story.
His preferred remedy is simple in principle but difficult in practice: publish fewer, more integrated papers.
Dudek is under no illusion about how hard this will be. “There is no fix,” he said, if by fix we mean a return to a quieter world. Incremental reforms may help, but the flood is still rising. He compared small procedural fixes to building better walls around a sandcastle while “there’s a tsunami coming from the back of the room.”
Renaud Detry argued that the growth in publications partly reflects the growing presence of applied systems work in academic venues. That is not necessarily bad. Robotics advances through real systems, data, benchmarks, platforms, and the last-mile effort needed to make ideas work outside idealized settings.
The problem is that the same evaluation machinery often judges very different contribution types. A new algorithm, a carefully engineered system, a benchmark, a dataset, and an industrially relevant validation study should not all have to pretend to be the same kind of paper. Robotics may need clearer tracks for fundamental science, applications, infrastructure, benchmarks, and technical correctness.
Dongheui Lee addressed another vital part of the new publication ecosystem: arXiv, open-source releases, project pages, videos, blogs, and social media. These tools can broaden access, improve reproducibility, and help readers decide what to examine closely. But they also distort attention. Visibility can reflect institutional prestige, networks, speed, and self-promotion as much as scientific value.
Lee’s suggestion was pragmatic: keep expert peer review as a quality filter but use its signals better. Editorial boards and media teams could do more to promote strong papers that receive excellent reviews but do not come from famous labs.
The most radical question came from Shigeki Sugano, who asked “What if we were to abandon peer review altogether?” In Sugano’s model, legitimate robotics and AI manuscripts would be uploaded first to an open archive, along with videos, code, and data.
Community evaluation, under verified identities, would happen in public. Journals and conferences would then certify high-value work rather than deciding what gets to exist.
“The question is not whether peer review is valuable,” he argued. “The question is whether it must remain the only gate to visibility.”
Not everyone agreed. Popularity bias, gaming, reputation effects, and low-quality papers flooding the system were highlighted by other panelists as possible risks. Still, Sugano’s radical proposal addressed real challenges around the ability of traditional accept-or-reject peer review models to scale to meet the deluge of papers flooding the robotics community’s information space.
No one on the panel pretended there was a clean fix. Instead, it emerged that the paper deluge is a tangle of volume, incentives, tools, evaluation, visibility, and culture.
Nevertheless, several useful principles emerged. LLMs may provide some mechanical support but carry risks of intellectual outsourcing. Read selectively and deeply. Reward quality before publication counts. Recognize different kinds of value in robotics research. Treat visibility as a possible indicator of worth, not as a verdict.
One major question remains: what happens to robotics research if papers continue to be published at the current rate?
There are clear benefits. More papers, more preprints, and more routes into publication can lower barriers to entry, help new researchers find a foothold, and make the field more open to a wider range of voices. Platforms such as arXiv have also made it easier for work to circulate before, or outside of, traditional publication channels.
But the risks are equally clear. Robotics is an integrative field, bringing together perception, control, manipulation, locomotion, hardware, safety, learning, and human-robot interaction. If researchers can only keep up with narrow slices of that landscape, the field may become more siloed. One result could be a growing reliance on off-the-shelf tools, including black-box commercial systems, without a deep understanding of the foundations on which those tools depend.
There is also the problem of memory. At a certain scale, no individual researcher can read far enough back, or broadly enough across adjacent domains. That increases the risk of duplicated work, overlooked insights, and important papers disappearing beneath the next wave of more fashionable topics.
This article originally appeared on IEEE RAS.
Photo by Alex Knight on Unsplash.
By Hasan Ayaz, Drexel University; Ewart J. de Visser, United States Air Force Academy; Frank Krueger, George Mason University, and Yigit Topoglu, United States Air Force Academy
People become more suspicious of a humanoid robot that makes errors, especially when the robot is an expressive conversation partner.
In our new study published in the journal Science Robotics, we had 50 people hold conversations and make joint decisions with the commercial humanoid robot Pepper, which is designed to be expressive and recognize emotions. Sometimes we had the robot give sound advice. Sometimes we had it make conversational mistakes, interrupting people or pushing illogical suggestions.
For some participants, the robot was animated, using gestures, eye contact and nods. For others, it stayed motionless.
We measured four things: brain activity, levels of the hormone oxytocin, self-reported trust and our observations of the robot’s influence on participants’ decisions.
We found that when people interacted with an expressive robot that violated interaction norms, their oxytocin levels increased. Oxytocin is popularly known as the “love hormone” for its role in social bonding, so the straightforward prediction is that it declines when a partner disappoints you.
Instead, the higher a person’s oxytocin during an expressive robot’s errors, the less they trusted the robot and the less often they took its advice. It turns out that the hormone was tracking with suspicion, not affection.
Errors damaged trust and diminished influence whether or not the robot was expressive. What expressiveness in the robot changed in participants was how their brains handled the moment.
Reading someone’s brain during a real conversation is hard because the conventional method requires lying motionless inside an MRI scanner. Instead, we used functional near-infrared spectroscopy, a portable sensor worn on the forehead that tracks oxygen levels in the brain while people move and talk normally.
The two brain regions we closely watched were the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex and the medial prefrontal cortex. The dorsolateral prefrontal cortex monitors uncertainty and flags when expectations or norms get broken. The medial prefrontal cortex supports “mentalizing,” the everyday work of inferring what another party intends.
When an animated robot erred, people seemed caught off guard and had to work harder to make sense of an awkward social situation. Activity rose in the two brain regions, and the two started working together more closely. That closer teamwork predicted the rise in oxytocin levels, which itself predicted falling trust and less influence on participants’ behavior. In contrast, this coordinated brain activity was absent in participants who interacted with expressionless robots.
Robots are moving into homes, hospitals and workplaces, where trust in robots determines whether people use them at all. A common design assumption has been that lifelike, socially expressive robots earn more trust, which protects a robot’s “reputation” even when it makes mistakes.
However, research is beginning to show that that assumption is faulty. Our work shows that expressive cues appear to shift how people perceive a mistake out of the category of technical malfunction and into the category of social violation, like those that happen between people.
A motionless robot’s error looks mechanical, while the same error from an animated robot engages the machinery you use to judge people.
Researchers increasingly treat trust as a multilevel phenomenon – spanning individuals, relationships, networks of people and societies – rather than a single attitude.
Much research on oxytocin involves humans interacting with humans, where the hormone is tied to bonding, though a growing body of work shows that those effects depend on the context, uncertainty and perceived threat.
Others are using wearable brain imaging systems to study social cognition in natural encounters between people, which isn’t possible when subjects are in scanners like MRI machines.
The participants in this study were all young men, and we used one robot design. A key next step is testing whether the same oxytocin-linked vigilance appears in women, mixed groups, other cultures and other robot designs. Our brain sensor also reached only the front of the brain, leaving deeper regions involved in social processing unmeasured.
We also want to examine whether robots can repair trust after a mistake by acknowledging the error, apologizing or signaling good intent, the way that people do after awkward or uncomfortable interactions.
The Research Brief is a short take about interesting academic work.
Hasan Ayaz, Professor of Biomedical Engineering, Science and Health Systems, Drexel University; Ewart J. de Visser, Technical Director, Warfighter Effectiveness Research Center, United States Air Force Academy; Frank Krueger, Professor of Systems Social Neuroscience, George Mason University, and Yigit Topoglu, Research Scientist, Warfighter Effectiveness Research Center, United States Air Force Academy
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.