Academic writing is central to the process of learning and assessment in higher education. It functions as a primary means of evaluation by which educators m students’ knowledge and interpretive abilities [6;152]. However, mastering academic writing proves challenging because it entails myriad implicit conventions ranging from discipline-specific language to argumentation patterns and structural norms that are rarely spelled out in textbooks or lectures. Students often discover these conventions through trial and error, leading to frustration and uneven performance [6;153].

For second-language (L2) students, the complexities of academic writing may be even more c. Their diverse cultural and linguistic backgrounds frequently give rise to uncertainties over how to appropriately express an authorial presence in the text [12;1091]. Traditional academic writing is commonly perceived as formal and impersonal, reinforcing a belief that the writer’s own “voice” should be muted or hidden [44;74]. Instructors sometimes discourage first-person pronouns, worried that such usage conflicts with the objective tone expected in scholarly prose [12;1091]. This mindset leads many L2 writers to exclude self-mention, hedges, or explicit stances, thereby rendering their writing impersonal and dominated by secondary sources. However, a growing body of research contends that readers expect authors to signal their own views and to demonstrate critical engagement with existing literature [12;1091]. Writers who skillfully integrate a clear yet context-appropriate voice can gain credibility and persuasive power within their discourse communities [32;29].

Recent data indicate that the number of Uzbek students seeking degrees in English-speaking institutions has increased substantially [43]. Similar to other L2 learners, many Uzbek students are rarely taught how to deploy authorial voice in their writing. Consequently, they risk lower grades at foreign universities, not necessarily because they lack ideas, but because they fail to showcase their perspectives persuasively [20;40]. Since voice is highly valued in most English-speaking academic contexts, bridging this gap is essential for Uzbek L2 writers—and for L2 writers more broadly—who wish to meet the expectations of international academic communities.

 Over the last three decades, authorial voice has garnered significant scholarly attention in the field of academic writing, yet a consensus on its definition remains elusive. Voice is commonly described as an author’s personal identity projected in the text [1;110], an embodiment of the writer’s opinions embedded within a broader dialogue of sources [2], or an expression of individuality via rhetorical moves and linguistic choices [33;48]. According to Atkinson, “voice is a devilishly difficult term to define” because it engages elements of personal stance, discourse conventions, identity, and even cultural norms [1;110]. Early research often equated voice with the use of first-person pronouns, treating it primarily as a marker of authenticity or the writer’s personality [20;40]. Critics, however, point out that voice cannot be reduced to pronouns alone, emphasizing that personal identity in academic writing also involves stance, engagement with readers, and adaptation to disciplinary expectations.

Voice can thus be regarded as multidimensional, encompassing individual, social, and dialogic dimensions [33;48]. From an individual standpoint, voice highlights the uniqueness of a writer’s beliefs [30;53]. From a social perspective, it situates the writer within a specific discourse community that values shared norms and rhetorical strategies [14;6]. From a dialogic viewpoint, voice emerges in the interplay between the writer’s intended meaning and the reader’s interpretation [20;40]. These dimensions underscore the complexity of voice, where simple “rules” often do not suffice to produce text that is at once personal, credible, and appropriately aligned with disciplinary norms.

Motivated by the challenges that L2 writers experience and by the paucity of explicit training on how to integrate personal stance within scholarly texts this study aims to:

1. Identify the linguistic (e.g., pronouns, hedges, boosters) and discursive (e.g., rhetorical structure) features that construct an authorial voice in academic writing.

2. Investigate contextual factors (culture, discipline, genre, and reader expectations) that influence how voice is articulated in written discourse.

Accordingly, the central research questions of this review are:

1. Which specific linguistic and discursive features most contribute to the construction of an authorial voice in academic writing?

2. What broader factors (e.g., discipline, culture, or L2 proficiency) shape the presentation of an authorial voice?

By focusing on these questions, this paper seeks to deepen our understanding of how L2 writers—particularly those from Uzbekistan—may develop an effective, recognizable voice and thereby improve their academic writing outcomes in international educational contexts.

This article synthesizes findings from 30 empirical studies that examine discursive and linguistic elements of authorial voice in academic writing. Studies were selected if they met the following criteria:

1. Focus on Voice: They specifically addressed voice, stance, or related constructs (self-mention, hedges, engagement).

2. L2 or Multilingual Contexts: They involved writers using English as an additional language.

3. Methodological Clarity: They provided transparent descriptions of their data collection and analytical methods.

These studies encompassed various disciplines (e.g., applied linguistics, education, social sciences) and text types (e.g., research articles, student essays, doctoral theses). By focusing on works that not only reference voice in passing but directly investigate it, this review seeks to compile robust insights into how voice is operationalized.

Much of the existing research draws upon Hyland’s (2008) interaction model, which highlights the social nature of voice and splits it into two main constructs: stance (writer-focused) and engagement (reader-focused) [14;176–177]. This model often identifies linguistic elements such as:

•  Hedges (e.g., “might,” “could suggest”)

•  Boosters (e.g., “definitely,” “clearly”)

•  Attitude markers (words showing surprise, agreement, importance)

•  Self-mention (first-person pronouns and related forms)

•  Reader pronouns, directives, questions, and personal asides

While Hyland’s model has offered valuable insights into sentence-level voice features, it does not always account for broader textual structures, rhetorical strategies, or cultural influences [44;253]. Hence, several of the reviewed studies adopted complementary approaches (e.g., analyzing entire texts for non-discursive elements like rhetorical moves or structural organization) [44;235]. Such approaches acknowledge that a writer’s voice may manifest cumulatively throughout the text rather than solely through discrete linguistic markers [20;40].

Each chosen study was examined to identify:

1. Key voice features (hedges, boosters, personal pronouns, rhetorical moves, etc.).

2. Patterns of co-occurrence (for example, how first-person pronouns combine with other markers).

3. Contextual influences on voice (disciplinary conventions, cultural norms, L2 proficiency).

Relevant data were extracted and organized in a comparative grid, facilitating cross-study analysis of recurring themes and discrepancies. Particular attention was paid to how researchers interpret the function of each voice feature—whether it signals confidence, humility, politeness, or deference to authority—since the same device (e.g., a hedge) can be read differently in different textual or cultural settings.

Our review of 30 empirical studies reveals that constructing a distinctive authorial voice in scientific discourse depends on a range of linguistic and discursive features. A central finding is that “stance” plays a key role in signaling the author’s personal position. Stance is typically marked by the use of mitigating expressions (e.g., “perhaps,” “it appears that”), which help temper claims and indicate scholarly caution [42;121]. Conversely, expressions that convey strong commitment (e.g., “definitely,” “clearly”) serve as boosters, although they can risk coming across as overly assertive if misapplied [12;1091;21;180]. Attitude markers further reveal the writer’s evaluative judgments, adding nuance to their argumentation.

Engagement strategies are equally important. Many studies report that effective engagement with readers is achieved through the use of directives (such as “consider the following example”), rhetorical questions, and inclusive pronouns (e.g., “we” or “you”), which reduce the social distance between author and audience [12;1091]. These devices not only invite reader participation but also contribute to a dynamic, interactive discourse.

Another key finding across the reviewed literature is that voice-related features vary significantly based on discipline (e.g., engineering vs. humanities) and genre (e.g., research article vs. essay). For instance, self-mention is more accepted in fields like applied linguistics or literary studies, where interpretative or qualitative methods require the researcher’s explicit presence. In contrast, some “hard” sciences remain conservative, valuing passive constructions or impersonal expressions (“It was discovered that…”) to signal objectivity.

Genre likewise matters. Writers are more likely to employ first-person pronouns in the discussion sections of research articles, where they must argue for the originality or significance of their findings [24;346]. Abstracts, on the other hand, may use fewer self-mentions, prioritizing concise summaries of methods and results. The rhetorical situation—who the intended readers are and what the text aims to accomplish—can further shape how voice markers are deployed [25;26].

Many studies note that first-person pronouns (I, we) remain the most conspicuous markers of presence—yet they spark considerable debate. On the one hand, self-mention can enhance credibility by showing ownership of ideas [26;174], or by distinguishing the author’s stance from the ideas of others [27;346]. On the other hand, some instructors and style guides caution that personal pronouns may invite reader disagreement [28;5], [2;1091].

Tang and John (1999) famously identified five types of authorial identity (representative, guide, architect, recounter, originator) that can emerge through first-person usage in student essays [40;26]. Their study of undergraduate writing in Singapore revealed that students most often used first-person pronouns to guide readers, yet rarely used them to assert themselves as originators of new ideas. Similarly, Ramoroka (2017) found that students sometimes used first-person pronouns to orient the reader, but seldom to foreground personal argumentation [31;7]. These findings underscore that self-mention is context-dependent and can serve multiple functions beyond mere “personalization.”

Like self-mention, hedges have been interpreted variously in research on L2 academic writing. Some scholars claim that lack of hedges implies a more forceful, confident voice—where an author sees no need to soften claims [26;241]. Other studies suggest that insufficient hedging can make a writer appear naïve or overconfident [31;17]. For example, Jwa (2018) observed that L2 Korean students who used few hedges were sometimes judged as “too assertive” by native-speaker readers, harming their credibility [17;29]. By contrast, excessive hedging can signify tentativeness or lack of authorial conviction [42;121].

In effect, the rhetorical function of hedges depends on disciplinary conventions, the writer’s familiarity with the discourse community, and the message the writer intends to convey at any given moment [17;17]. For doctoral students, especially those aiming to publish internationally, calibrating hedges involves learning to respect existing scholarship while still projecting enough certainty to claim knowledge contributions [42;121].

The above results indicate that the construction of a recognizable authorial voice depends on carefully chosen linguistic elements (hedges, boosters, self-mention, engagement markers) and broader discursive strategies (rhetorical positioning, structural organization). While traditional views portray academic writing as purely impersonal and objective, many researchers argue that strategic use of personal pronouns and stance markers is essential for persuasive, credible writing [12;1091]. Indeed, a recurring theme is that readers want more than a summary of others’ findings; they also want to grasp the writer’s unique perspective, reasoning, and interpretation of the literature [12;1091].

This discussion holds particular relevance for L2 writers, including those from Uzbekistan, whose educational and linguistic backgrounds may differ from the norms of English-medium universities [3;10]. While they may have strong arguments or innovative insights, the lack of explicit voice training often results in texts that sound detached or uncertain [3;74]. At the same time, cultural traditions that discourage self-promotion or overt claims to originality can leave L2 students unsure of how to use “I” or “we” [10;40]. These tendencies underscore the importance of explicit instruction on how to calibrate formality and personal presence in academic discourse.

The synthesis of findings from the reviewed studies indicates that authorial voice is a multifaceted construct, shaped by both linguistic choices and broader discursive strategies. Traditionally, academic discourse has been viewed as a realm where objectivity is paramount; however, recent research suggests that a measured degree of personal expression can enhance both clarity and credibility [12;1091]. The ability to effectively balance personal statements with evidence-based argumentation is particularly crucial. When authors skillfully blend self-mention with rigorous analysis, they not only assert their perspective but also situate it within the broader academic conversation.

Disciplinary and genre variations further complicate the picture. In disciplines that encourage interpretative insight, such as the humanities and social sciences, a pronounced authorial voice is often welcomed. In contrast, in more empirically driven fields, the preference is for an impersonal tone. This divergence highlights the importance of understanding and adhering to the specific norms of each academic community. Authors must navigate these expectations and adjust their linguistic strategies accordingly—whether by emphasizing personal insight or by employing impersonal constructions—to achieve the desired impact [24;346;25;26].

The challenges are even more pronounced for writers from diverse cultural and linguistic backgrounds. Many second-language authors, including those from Uzbekistan, encounter inconsistent or vague guidance regarding the use of first-person expressions and other voice markers. As a result, their texts may lack the persuasive force necessary to engage international audiences [3;74;10;40]. This review suggests that explicit instruction on voice construction, incorporating comparative text analyses and interactive classroom activities, can help bridge this gap [8;84;33;235;34;45–59]. Such pedagogical strategies not only demystify the interplay between personal expression and formal academic requirements but also empower writers to develop a robust and credible authorial voice.

Furthermore, the interplay between linguistic devices and discursive organization merits further investigation. Future research should explore how evolving academic conventions, particularly in digital communication, affect the manifestation of authorial voice. Longitudinal studies tracking the progression of voice among emerging scholars could provide valuable insights into how voice develops over time and how educators can better support this process [36;40;37;236].

In conclusion, our review underscores that a well-calibrated authorial voice—one that effectively integrates personal perspective with formal academic norms—is essential for engaging and persuasive scientific discourse. Recognizing and addressing the complex interplay of linguistic and contextual factors is crucial for both researchers and educators aiming to enhance scholarly communication.A logical outgrowth of these findings is that writing instructors should consider incorporating voice-related practices into their curricula. Teachers can start by:

1. Raising Awareness: Familiarize students with the concept of voice, dispelling myths that academic writing must exclude personal perspectives [8;84].

2. Comparative Text Analyses: Provide samples of published research in the student’s discipline, highlighting where and how authors use self-mention, hedges, boosters, or directives [33;235].

3. Role-Playing and Audience Shifts: Encourage students to rewrite a paragraph for different audiences, noting how usage of personal pronouns or hedges might shift.

4. Peer Review and Reflection: Adopt platforms or tasks where students critique each other’s use of voice markers, promoting deeper awareness of rhetorical choices [34;45–59], [35].

Such activities can demystify the interplay between personal expression and disciplinary expectations, helping students fine-tune their voice in a supportive environment [36;40], [37;236].

Voice is not merely a bundle of sentence-level devices; it is also reflected in organizational patterns, rhetorical moves, and genre conventions [10;40]. For instance, how an author situates their work within existing literature or how they structure arguments in an introduction can subtly convey confidence, deference, or self-awareness [32;121]. Thus, analyzing entire texts—beyond isolated sentences—offers insight into how authors gradually build or withhold personal presence [15;235].

Moreover, each discipline has its own standards of objectivity and shared language practices. Writers in the physical sciences, for example, might face expectations to minimize explicit self-reference. In contrast, qualitative fields, especially in the humanities or social sciences, may encourage visible personal interpretation [38;210]. Understanding these disciplinary differences is vital for guiding L2 learners who must adapt their voice to new academic communities while still maintaining authenticity [6;6].

Voice in academic writing is a nuanced, multifaceted phenomenon influenced by linguistic strategies, discourse conventions, and cultural or disciplinary contexts. Far from being a purely individualistic endeavor, voice reflects how authors negotiate collective expectations, whether through hedging to acknowledge limitations, boosting to assert originality, or selectively employing first-person pronouns to clarify their contributions. This negotiation is particularly complex for L2 students, many of whom have been advised to keep themselves “invisible” in the text, despite evidence suggesting that a more prominent personal stance can strengthen their argumentation.

From the preceding review, we see that:

•  Linguistic markers (e.g., self-mention, hedges, boosters) are key indicators of stance and engagement but require delicate calibration to avoid extremes of overconfidence or excessive tentativeness.

•  Discursive features, including how authors structure arguments and connect with readers, serve as a broader framework in which these linguistic elements operate.

•  Contextual factors—discipline, genre, cultural norms, and the writer’s L1 background—collectively shape whether certain voice markers are perceived as credible, respectful, or potentially inappropriate.

Recognizing voice’s importance is especially crucial in contexts where L2 learners, such as those from Uzbekistan, aspire to publish or study in English-speaking universities. Given the persistent assumption that academic writing must be purely objective and impersonal, educators can intervene by embedding explicit voice instruction in writing curricula, encouraging the analysis of published papers to highlight voice markers, and designing interactive activities that increase awareness of how rhetorical choices shape authorial presence. There is still much to learn about how different genres and educational levels intersect with voice expectations. Likewise, more investigation into how L2 writers expand their repertoire of voice markers over time—and how teachers can scaffold that development—would benefit the fields of applied linguistics and composition studies. Ultimately, fostering a deeper understanding of voice can empower L2 writers to communicate not only the content of their scholarship but also the individual perspective they bring to it.