We've all seen them. Participant information sheets that run to several pages, accompanied by consent forms containing multiple statements, declarations and signatures. But at what point does providing more information stop supporting informed consent and start making it harder to achieve?

What happens when research is commissioned to provide an answer, rather than to find one?

Low risk” can sometimes become shorthand for research that appears relatively straightforward: a small number of interviews, an anonymous survey, an evaluation, or research using existing information. But risk has a more specific meaning in research ethics.

A significant change to Aotearoa New Zealand’s research ethics system may be beginning to take shape.

Research ethics committees are increasingly being asked to demonstrate the quality of their work: Are reviews consistent? Are decisions proportionate? Are the right ethical issues being identified? Are committees appropriately constituted and trained? These are important questions. But there is another decision in the research ethics system that receives much less scrutiny: The decision that ethics review isn't required at all. Quality improvement and audit activities don't a

When we talk about the quality of research ethics review, we tend to focus on standards. What principles does the committee apply? What processes are followed? What does the application ask researchers to demonstrate? But there is another, much more human part of the system: Who is actually sitting around the table? Research ethics standards don't review research. People do. And the people involved inevitably influence the questions that are asked, the risks that are noticed,

Research ethics has historically placed considerable emphasis on whether information is identifiable. But identifiability isn't necessarily a fixed property of a dataset.

How do we know whether an ethics review is actually 'good'? It sounds like a simple question. But research ethics systems tend to measure the things that are easiest to count: how many applications were reviewed, how long reviews took, whether the right processes were followed, and whether committees met particular requirements. Those things matter. But they don't necessarily tell us whether the review itself was high quality. Australia is now confronting this question as par

A researcher may spend months preparing an ethics application before it reaches an ethics committee for review. Once approved by the Committee, the research proceeds, participants are recruited, data are collected, and findings are published. Sure, researchers may be expected to submit an annual report, amendments and eventually the final report, but after all is said and done, the ethics file is quietly closed. For most ethics committees, that marks the end of their involv

An ethics committee receives fifty applications each month. An AI agent screens submissions for completeness, identifies missing documents and sections, checks consistency of consent language against committee requirements, suggests reviewers with relevant expertise, and drafts all correspondence to researchers. The application reaches reviewers faster. Administrative delays are reduced. The committee spends less time on paperwork and more time discussing ethical issues.

Lessons from the United States for Research Ethics Oversight When we think about protecting research participants, most of us think about ethics committees. Researchers submit applications. Committees review them. Studies are approved, further information is requested, or they are declined. The system appears reassuringly simple. But recently, a story emerging from the United States has highlighted a question that few researchers, and even fewer members of the public, ever st

Quality improvement (QI) and audit activities are essential to a functioning health system. They allow services to reflect, adapt, and improve, often quickly and pragmatically. They are also one of the most misunderstood areas of research ethics.

A company commissions a research agency to test a new digital health product. Participants are recruited online and asked about their health behaviours, medication use, and attitudes toward treatment. They consent to take part. The data is anonymised. The findings will inform product strategy, and may later be presented externally. No ethics committee is involved. At first glance, this feels routine. It is, after all, “just market research”. But pause for a moment.

Ethics committees have traditionally relied on face-to-face meetings to review research applications. But as research volume increases and timelines tighten, this model is being challenged. Increasingly, committees are adopting asynchronous (or “rolling”) review processes, where applications are assessed independently and decisions are made without real-time meetings. So which approach is better?

In New Zealand, there is no single “ethics committee” that covers all research. Instead, the system is made up of multiple organisations, each with a distinct role. Understanding how these pieces fit together is essential; not just for compliance, but for conducting ethically sound research.

Not everything that involves people is research — until it is. The distinction between outreach and research is often blurred, and projects can move between the two over time. What matters is recognising when that shift is occurring and responding appropriately.

When 2012 reforms shut community researchers out of NZ's health ethics committees, former HDEC chairs built NZEC — a free, independent committee treating applicants with dignity. AREC replaced it. When demand from paying clients overwhelmed AREC, IHREC was created to charge commercial and government researchers — protecting the free pathway by funding a paid one beside it.