In 2025 alone, predatory journals deceived an estimated 5,000+ researchers worldwide, extracting over $20 million in publication fees. These were not obscure blogs or obvious scam sites. They were Scopus-indexed journals with quartile rankings, professional websites, and active editorial boards — at least on paper.
What happened to those researchers follows a classic, repeatable scheme that has been used successfully for years — and that thousands of researchers fall for every year, precisely because it is designed to look legitimate.
In this article, we break down how the scheme works, show you four real cases from 2025, and explain what signs were visible before each collapse.
There are three ways a journal becomes a predatory trap:
Three types of predatory journals
Once the journal is in position, the scheme unfolds in predictable steps.
Step by step — how researchers get caught
Get the free Predatory Journal Red Flags Checklist (PDF) via WhatsApp — and evaluate any journal in 5 minutes before you submit.
The following four cases illustrate how the scheme plays out in practice. Each journal operated differently. Each caused real, lasting damage to the researchers who trusted it.
Scopus profile: www.scopus.com/sourceid/21101057630 | Journal website: ijirss.com
What happened: IJIRSS was a model Q2 journal in 2023–2024. In 2025, the pursuit of profit took over. The journal began mass-mailing researchers with fast-publication offers, and the response was overwhelming — within just six months, it had published over 2,000 articles. More than 1,100 of those were indexed in Scopus. Some issues contained over 500 articles each.
The outcome: In September 2025, Scopus removed IJIRSS and deleted all 2025 articles from its database. Thousands of researchers across Indonesia, India, Malaysia, Kazakhstan, Saudi Arabia, and beyond lost their indexed publications. In Kazakhstan alone, more than 1,200 scientists were affected — dissertation defences cancelled, grants revoked, promotions reversed.
What made it convincing: Right up until its removal, IJIRSS displayed legitimate quartile and percentile rankings. There was no obvious external signal that anything was wrong — the warning signs were only visible if you looked at the volume and scope of recent issues.

No legitimate journal grows like this. At approximately $700 per article, this single journal extracted an estimated $800,000 from researchers in a single year.
What made it work: The journal published papers from philosophy, machine learning, obstetrics, law, and education — in a journal called ‘Environmental Sciences’. It became a dumping ground for any paper, from any field, as long as the author paid. Researchers who only checked the Scopus status — without reviewing recent issues — had no way of knowing. The most affected countries were India (~500 articles), Indonesia (hundreds of submissions), Iraq, and China.
What happened: Scopus discontinued indexing of this journal. Unusually, the articles were not deleted from the database — they remain visible, but the journal no longer carries active Scopus status.
What made this case different: Unlike journals that accelerate suddenly, this one played a longer game. It continued accepting and accumulating manuscripts over an extended period — giving authors the impression of a normal, functioning editorial process. Then, without warning, it published everything in just two issues. Hundreds of papers appeared at once, across healthcare, law, engineering, and education — in a journal whose stated focus was cultural analysis and social change.
Why researchers missed it: The journal’s Scopus status remained active during the period of submission. The editorial process felt slow and professional — exactly what researchers expect from a legitimate journal. The problem only became visible in the published output, not in the process. The largest groups of affected authors came from Indonesia, Saudi Arabia, Malaysia, and Vietnam.
What happened: In May 2025, Scopus quietly discontinued indexing of the Journal of Posthumanism. The journal’s profile shows it as discontinued, but it was not included in the official Scopus exclusion list for that month — making it extremely difficult for authors to detect the change in time.
Why this matters: The scale of the damage became clear only after the fact: over 1,000 indexed articles were retroactively removed from the Scopus database. Researchers who published there in the months before the cut-off had no standard mechanism to discover that their articles would no longer be indexed — the removal was not announced, and the journal was absent from the official exclusion list. The journal had accepted papers well outside its narrow stated scope — posthumanism — from Saudi Arabia, Indonesia, Jordan, Malaysia, and Vietnam, operating as a volume-driven publication service rather than a genuine academic journal.
Predatory journals do not discriminate. They do not target the naive or the inexperienced. They target anyone with a publication need and a credit card — junior researchers, senior academics, professors with decades ofexperience. The fee is the only selection criterion.
What makes them effective is not sophistication. It is timing. They operate in the gap between when a journal starts behaving badly and when Scopus finishes investigating — a window that can last up to 12 months. Inside that window, thousands of researchers submit, pay, and publish in good faith. By the time the journal is removed, the money is gone, the articles are deleted, and the editorial inbox is silent.
No institution will warn you in advance. No automated system will stop you at the moment of submission. Scopus will eventually act — but eventually is too late for the researchers who already paid.
The cases in this article are not exceptional. They are the pattern. And the pattern repeats every year, at scale, because most researchers only discover how to identify a predatory journal after they have alreadypublished in one.
Get the free Predatory Journal Red Flags Checklist (PDF) via WhatsApp — and evaluate any journal in 5 minutes before you submit.