Leaving behind the big business and bureaucracy of academic science

I have written several posts in past years about my preference for small organizations/companies and small research groups in the world of scientific research, be they in the public or private sector. It wasn’t always so; when I was starting out in the work world, there was something enticing about working for a large company, e.g. a pharmaceutical company. There was something attractive about being a small fish in a large pond, so to speak. Even though you could be surrounded by an ocean of people, it still felt as though there were possibilities as long as you worked hard and did your job. It felt like the world was your oyster. That was in 1980s America, specifically Manhattan. I have not physically experienced the changes that have occurred since that time because I moved abroad and began working in Norway in 1990. But I have kept abreast of the different changes both there and here via books, the news and social media. And the academic scientific workplace has changed enormously in Norway since 1990. One must expect change, I know that. I know too that the changes I’ve witnessed here in Norway are not specific to Norway, although Norway puts its own stamp on them. They are global changes--the huge growth of bureaucracy, the emphasis on mergers that result in huge organizations/companies, the loss of individuality in the workplace, the dominance of program-driven research, the emphasis on huge research groups (think centers of excellence), the inability to obtain funding for non-program-driven research and the demise of small research groups, scientific publishing as big business, to name a few.

I have worked in the public sector for most of my research career, over thirty years here in Oslo and at least three years in Manhattan. I have seven years of research experience working in the private sector (a well-known cancer hospital). There are advantages and disadvantages to working in both the public and private sectors. I know this from my friends in the USA who have worked in the private sector (doing R&D for pharmaceutical companies) for most of their careers. Very few regret working in the private sector. They were well-paid, recognized for what they did, and when they retired, they left knowing that they made a substantial contribution to their workplace. I doubt any of them felt like a fifth wheel (superfluous or burdensome). The main complaint they had was not that there was lack of money for research projects; rather that there could be pressure on them to produce results, and when those results were not forthcoming fast enough, projects were cancelled in favor of new and more promising projects. But the public sector is no better. I know this to be true. There, many projects don’t even get that far, because they don’t get funded from the start. Many good ideas die on the planning table because there is a lack of funding to implement them. Why? Because academic research is big business now; huge sums of money get tossed around, and tossed to those who have great ambitions and five-year plans that promise the delivery of great (innovative and marketable) results. It’s often the same researchers who lead program-driven research centers who get funding; small research groups or researchers with less lofty ambitions do not get funded anymore. ‘Bigger is better’ in all respects. Actually, ‘bigger is best’, because if you think ‘big’, you are thought to be an ambitious scientist, a market- and innovation-driven scientist, a high-flyer. If you don’t think big, you’re less employable because you’re considered second-best, mediocre, unambitious, or not good enough. Many small research groups have innovative ideas and good plans for how to translate and implement them; it doesn’t matter because they no longer get funding to do so. Most research in the public sector is done by large centers of excellence (populated by project groups that are protected and funded by the center heads). Academic science is big business now, with emphasis on big. We’re talking tens of millions of dollars in grant funding to program-driven research alone at present. Some of that money goes to actual research; some of it goes to the bureaucracy needed to run these huge centers—secretaries, accountants, advisors, human resources, etc. Just a decade or two ago, a researcher working in a small group doing non-program-driven research could obtain fifty to one hundred thousand dollars per year in funding to carry out his or her small research projects independent of large centers of excellence. That meant a lot to those researchers. But no more. The government doesn’t want small research groups anymore, even though many of the top researchers in the USA have stated publicly that the best ideas often come from small research groups. It doesn’t matter here in Norway. They know best, and big is the politically-correct mantra, in all things.

Eventually, facing this overwhelming hugeness at all turns takes its toll on researchers who work in small research groups and who want to pursue non-program-driven research. There are only so many times they can apply for funding and get continually rejected in favor of the centers of excellence and program-driven research. There are only so many times they can be told to keep plodding on—‘one day you’ll get funding’—when everyone who understands the system understands that this is just lying. There are only so many years they can keep working as post-docs or junior scientists, waiting for their chance to finally ‘belong’. There are only so many years they can deal with the rejection, the loneliness, the demotivation, the lack of recognition for what they do. Keeping their heads above water, competing with the centers of excellence for funding, being told by department research leaders that they’re mediocre because they don’t get funding (when they can’t get funding because they don’t do program-driven research), all these things are counterproductive at best. None of it is good for mental or physical health, and none of it is good for sanity. If all these scientists ever hear is negative feedback, then they become cynical, demotivated, and demoralized. Most research leaders don’t seem to care about that; some few do. Some few are fighting for a return to non-program-driven research and for the survival of small research groups. But I doubt that they’ll get far. One could ask why these ‘small’ scientists simply don’t hop on the program-driven research bandwagon, why they don’t become politically-correct scientists. The answer is that not all scientists are the same; they are individuals with different motives and goals. That should be respected and encouraged; at present, it is not. I no longer encourage small scientists to stay in academia. I am retiring soon and can now speak the truth. It is a waste of their time and of those precious years when they could be doing good research, preferably in the private sector, where their skills and talents will most likely be more appreciated than in the public sector, where after some years of not ‘measuring up’, they become the fifth wheels, superfluous and bothersome to their institutions, and unwanted.

Reflections on retirement and the pandemic

Now that I've made the decision to retire, I've begun to reflect about different things, among them, how the pandemic affected my decision to retire this year. In mid-March of 2020, we were essentially told to work from home full-time if we had that possibility, and since most of my work is administrative, I was able to do that. I went from working from home one day a week as I had done for about fifteen years, to doing so five days a week. The first few months of full-time home office were fine; I had plenty to do and the days flew by. I didn't think much about whether I missed the actual office or not, because I didn't have the time to do so. Zoom meetings were new experiences, and people were not weary of them as they are now, over a year later. During the summertime, Norway 'opened up' for a few months, and it felt as though life was beginning to return to normal. In September 2020 I began to go into the office a couple of days a week to update server files and to meet with specific colleagues; we kept our distance and wore masks as required. We were allowed to have small physical meetings (five to ten people) as long as everyone kept the appropriate distance from each other. I held a lecture about my research project in September, and that went well. I began to think about writing the eventual article based on data from that project (that will be published next month), and I started writing it in the autumn of 2020. That kept me busy as well in addition to my biobanking administrative work. 

And then the winter months hit, as did a new lockdown right after Christmas. It was as though the reigning powers that be said--it's ok to shop and celebrate Christmas, but the punishment for doing that is a new lockdown right afterward. As of January 2021, normal life ceased and we were suddenly thrown back to March 2020. Working from home full-time began to feel like a chore. It wasn't a positive experience anymore. Zoom meetings were a bore, even though they were necessary. The only ones I got anything out of were the meetings with our research technician about her work on my research project. They were interactive and productive meetings. The amount of biobanking administrative work fell off dramatically from what I was used to in 2020, probably partially due to that our department leader (who prioritized biobanking) moved on to another job and priorities shifted as they often do under a new department leader. Biobanking work seems to have been deprioritized; I could be wrong. But the amount of biobanking administrative work has continued to decline, and no one seems to have an explanation for why that is the case. My research article is now written and will be published soon, research funding has run out, there is very little biobanking work, and my PhD student successfully defended her thesis in April. I'm essentially finished with all of the projects and work that I've been responsible for during the past five years or so. It began to feel like a good time to retire. It's not as though I didn't plan for it, I did. I planned quite well. I knew I wanted to retire in 2021, I just wasn't sure when. As it turns out, retiring at the end of August seemed to be the best decision. 

I didn't expect the pandemic to factor into the decision, but it did. The pandemic exacerbated the loneliness of academic life. When I am physically at work, I share an office with a pathologist who has a lot of diagnostic work to do. Sometimes we chat, and that is always pleasant. She is really the only person I truly interact with in the space of a day. But still, it is a lonely life. And working from home full-time began to seem quite lonely too. I don't mind being alone at all. But in the context of a work situation, I discovered I am one of those people who enjoy the professional and social interactions at work, however few they are. Being at home all day began to wear on me. Additionally, I realized that most of my colleagues are former colleagues; they are already retired. There aren't a lot of new contacts waiting in the wings. Those days of establishing collaborations with other scientists are over. 

So in the end, I feel lonely at the office and lonely at home--in a work context. When I am not working and am at home full-time, I'm fine. I have lots of other non-science-related projects to focus on--writing and gardening being two of them. I feel lonelier at work (whether at the office or at home) then I do when not working. That is as good a reason as any to retire now. I thank the pandemic for helping me to figure that out. 

Choosing change

Weary (and wary) of change

There are at least two sorts of changes, perhaps more. The first sort is the type of change that life brings about, that you can do nothing about--innate change. We age, we grow older, we grow old. There are many changes connected to aging that we can merely observe in ourselves and others; we cannot stop the progression of time. Illness and death are part of the journey. We learn to accept this type of change, albeit grudgingly at times, mostly because there is nothing we can really do about it. At some point you realize that it's best not to think too much about it and to enjoy the days and years that are given you. Because not all people get that chance, as has become all too clear to me during the past decade. 

The other type of change is external change. It is not a natural part of human life as is innate change, but it is a part of our lives that has consequences for us. It is often a type of change that can be forced upon you by a workplace or an organization, or by events in one's personal life that you have not instigated. It can be unsettling change, in that you have to react to it in one form or another, either passively or actively. Many choose the passive route, others choose the proactive route. Regardless, this type of change will affect your life and change it irrevocably--marriage, children, divorce, a major move, a bad job, a good job, retirement. They are changes we can choose, but sometimes they are not. And it is when this type of change is forced upon us that problems can arise. 

During the past two decades or so, modern workplaces have put a tremendous amount of emphasis on the necessity for employees to be able to change (almost at a moment's notice). I remember when I took a year-long leadership course here in Oslo; the operative (Norwegian/Danish) word was 'endringsparat' (ready for change). As a leader, it was important that your employees were endringsparat. An entire module was dedicated to how to lead employees through major workplace changes, and how to deal with those employees who were resistant to change. It was an interesting module, to say the least. Discussions of major mergers came up, and our teacher took an informal poll of the class--how many had been through such a major change as a merger and felt that the outcome was successful. Only one or two people raised their hands. The majority did not, and when quizzed, told stories of fiascos and failures to communicate that torpedoed such workplace changes. There was massive resistance to the changes that ensued in the wake of the merger. What was not commented upon or discussed was the timescale involved in such major changes. How quickly do leaders expect employees to adapt to change? Mergers, for example, are such major changes that it wouldn't surprise me if it took a decade or more for employees to become used to the idea. I don't think most leaders look at this aspect--the length of time involved for employees to adapt to and to accept change. I think they should look more closely at exactly this aspect. 

It is possible for employees to become weary and wary of change. Just hearing the word 'change' can be anathema for some employees, and I think that's because they feel that they have had no say in the matter. Yet another change has been forced on them, that they are expected to accept immediately. That can only lead to conflicts and failure to communicate. I think the time window for measuring the outcome of change should be long. I think management should allow at least five to ten years for employees to adapt to major changes. But that is rarely the case. It all has to be wrapped up nicely with a pretty bow, so the package can be displayed as a 'success'. But how do you measure that success? Did you talk to your employees?

I know several leaders who are young (in their forties) and older (around sixty or in their sixties). All of them have faced situations of major change that they have had to implement or are responsible for initiating. All of them have expressed mild to strong surprise that many of their employees appear to be resistant to those changes. They don't get it, they don't understand what they've done wrong. I try to tell them that perhaps their employees are weary of change. And that some are most likely wary of change. I was, during a period of too many changes about fifteen years ago. I listened to the svada (empty words, empty phrases, meaningless talk about great ambitions for this and that) and thought 'been there, done that'. So many times I can't count. How many times can you change yourself, start over, reinvent yourself, market yourself and your dreams, and to what end? Are we all to conquer the world? Most of us are good at what we do, and that should be enough. But in today's modern workplace, it's not, at least not for many modern workplace leaders. They have to do something, they have to effect change, they have to be remembered for such things. They have to 'motivate' their employees and make them endringsparat. It borders on hysterical. I prefer the non-hysterical approach. 

Through all the years, there has been change, whether modern leaders see it or not. Workplaces change, not because of artificial changes forced on employees, but because the world around us changes. We communicate via internet and digital meetings because technology in the world has made it possible for us to do so. That changes a workplace. Emails changed workplaces for good. They also changed personal communication for good. Smart phones likewise. IT departments are large and necessary entities in most companies; just try living without your computer when it's down for two days. So changes have been implemented gradually over the years in response to the external world. It is the artificial changes, the forced and often unnecessary changes, that cause problems. Leaders who are truly interested in the wellbeing of their employees should learn to distinguish between what are necessary and what are unnecessary changes. The latter can wear down the morale and motivation of many employees, whether modern leaders like it or not. 

 

More garden photos--June 2021

 

The garden in June

It's been a while since I've posted photos of my garden. It got a slow start this year due to a very rainy and chilly May. About the only plants that loved the rain were the strawberry plants; I've never seen them so tall as they are this year. But since June started, the weather has been warm, with temperatures in the mid-70s, and most of the days have been sunny. We've had very little rain so far in June. So now the plants are taking off, and I hope there will be a good yield of zucchinis, butternut squashes, and pumpkins. The potato plants (two types) are doing well; they are also quite tall already. I planted the tomato plants in the same area as last year, since it gets a lot of sun. They did well last year, so I'm hoping for a repeat success. I have a few bean plants that are just sprouting, some onion plants, and two cucumber plants. Most of my perennials came back after winter, but not all. We did not have a lot of snow this past winter, mostly cold temperatures and frost, and that does a lot of the perennials in. Snow actually protects the roots of perennials by keeping them insulated. I'll have to remember to cover the plants with mulch/dead leaves in order to protect them for next winter's cold temperatures. 

My lilac bush, wisteria tree, magnolia tree, potentilla (cinquefoil) bushes, and my ninebark bush all survived the winter and are doing well. The wisteria (planted two years ago) has even produced two purplish-blue flowers, which surprised me because I remember reading that it can take three to five year for wisteria to bloom for the first time. But it's in a part of the garden that gets full afternoon sun, and that part of the garden is less open/more protected. That could have something to do with it. I planted two forsythia bushes around mid-May, and they have just taken off. I love forsythia; it reminds me of childhood when we would pick forsythia that grew wild and put it in a vase when we got home. My autumn aster is also very happy. I got some Columbine plants from a garden neighbor, and some hollyhock seedlings from the neighbor across the street from the garden. Both are growing well. Otherwise, I've planted sweet pea flowers and one cathedral bell (Cobaea scandens) plant. 

My peony plants will have a lot of flowers this year. My Japanese maple tree has also grown taller, and is so pretty. My rose bush and my climbing roses have produced new stems that are growing taller each day. The irises, which are such elegant and beautiful flowers, are starting to bloom. All the berry bushes have produced berries that are starting to ripen. We will get a lot of strawberries, black currants, and gooseberries this year. It will be interesting to see if we get a lot of raspberries, blueberries, and red currants. 

I bought two new Coral bells plants to replace the two that died after the winter cold. And then there are the pansies, which are such great little flowering plants. They do well in most types of soil and tolerate most temperatures and weather that the Norwegian climate tosses at them. 

So the garden is blooming, and it always does my heart good to see that. It is a reward for all the hard work that goes into a garden. It makes me feel good to know that I've learned enough to know how to care for my plants. I cannot control how tough winter is on my perennials, but I do my best to prepare them for winter. The rest is out of my hands. 

Wisteria bloom

Wisteria tree

Magnolia tree

Rhododendron bush--so many blooms this year

Beautiful irises

Snapdragon plant

Potato plants growing

Strawberry plants--two patches

behind the greenhouse 

Bumblebee on rhododendron flower

Honeybee on flower

A leap into the unknown

And so I've taken the next step and a leap into the unknown--in September I will join the ranks of those who have retired early. I've thought long and hard about this decision and have planned well for it, as one of my leaders commented. I have. My responsibilities for research projects and PhD/Masters students are fulfilled; my last PhD student defended her thesis in April. I could go in another direction now and start to study another type of cancer (my focus has been colorectal cancer for my entire academic career), but I don't want to switch fields and there is no more funding to be obtained for my particular research area. I'm proud of the work I've done. I've published nearly one hundred research articles as a main author/co-author and have been a mentor/co-mentor for three Masters students and six PhD students, all of whom successfully finished their degrees. What I've learned after many years in academia is that an academic career is demanding; one must be good at grant-writing, article-writing, mentorship, project planning and execution, networking, academic politics, communication, and diplomacy. I was good at most of it, but not at academic politics and as it evolved, grant-writing. But to be fair, the world of research science changed dramatically compared to when I started out in the mid-1990s. It was easier to write grants and get them funded then. I prefer the way research was done then--in smaller research groups without an emphasis on centers of excellence and platform-based research. I am old-school and do not apologize for it. I do not fit together with big research groups and large research centers, nor am I interested in having to follow a center leader's plan for what type of research project I should focus on. As a senior scientist, I feel that this decision should be left up to me, but often it's not. I've written about all of this before, about how postdocs are used as technicians in large research groups, going from one postdoc position to another and using valuable time trying to please group leaders instead of the group leaders encouraging them to become independent scientists. I would go so far as to say that many group leaders use postdocs as slaves; they know they will get a lot of work out of them, but they don't have to worry about rewarding them in any way. It's unfair, and that's just the way it is. There are scientist associations (unions) working on the problem, but so far it remains that--a problem. 

I won't miss the work world. Either it moved away from me, or I grew beyond it. I grew to want more than it could give me. I used to get really jazzed at the idea of scientific meetings and conferences; I no longer do. It's more a 'been there done that' type of feeling. And I could write a long post about academic politics--how bored I am with them; the truth is that you are either on the current ruling team or you're not. If you're not, you're not important, and that means that your expertise is mostly ignored in favor of someone else who just happens to be on the right political side. And so it goes. Life is not fair, and academic life is definitely not fair. It's who you know, not what you know. I think it's always been that way, and that it will continue to be that way. I also won't miss the feeling of constantly having to do homework--read articles, stay updated, read more articles, plan more research. It's tiring. 

Now that I've informed my leaders, I feel free. I've been walking around for the past year with this decision on my shoulders, so to speak. Should I or shouldn't I? As it turned out, there are personal reasons for why I made the decision now. I won't detail them here, but it has to do with that life is short and that friendships mean more than work. So in a sense, the decision was easy to make. I want to spend more time with friends, not more time at the office. 

Leaving the work world is a leap into the unknown. I look forward to finding out what the next life chapter holds. I don't need to know everything that's going to happen, nor do I want any major plans or responsibilities hanging over me. I want at least one year without any plans or responsibilities. After that, we'll see. One thing is for sure; I will be able to focus on my writing a lot more. It will be nice to have the time to do that, when I want to do it. And if you want to find me most days during spring, summer, and fall, you'll find me in my garden.