Reflections on academic plagiarism

I’m not stepping into the politically-charged fracas surrounding the resignation of the president of Harvard University--Claudine Gay. I understand that politics will inevitably rear its ugly head in the USA nowadays no matter what the situation. I’m only interested in one aspect of the case--the alleged plagiarism charges against her. If it’s true that she plagiarized some parts of her doctoral thesis already way back in 1997, then that’s the only thing that interests me. That’s because I spent over forty years in an academic research career and wrote nearly one hundred scientific articles, all of which were peer-reviewed and checked by specific software for plagiarism from around 2005 or so. This type of software appeared around the year 2000 and most scientific journals had incorporated it into use by 2005. If you were intentionally unethical and extensively plagiarized others’ articles, you would eventually get caught and your article would be refused. The ‘punishment’ was not more severe than that, except that ultimately, if you don’t publish in academia, you perish, hence the old adage—‘publish or perish’. The punishment of no published articles leads to no funding, because scientists will not get funding for their research if they haven’t published. Essentially it’s tantamount to shooting yourself in the foot. But in my long experience, most of the scientists I ran across or collaborated with were decent and ethical people. I include myself in that group. I can’t tell you how many times I lay awake during the night, wondering about the phrasing of this or that sentence or paragraph, wanting to get it just right, and hoping that I had without parroting others’ ideas. The problem of course is that each published article builds on the work that came before; in other words, there are very few novel ideas. The novel ideas belong to the few visionaries who move science along in a way that the rest of us do not.

If you have to write about the ideas and findings of others, as we had to do as scientists, then you must reference their previously-published articles. You cannot knowingly take credit for ideas and findings that rightfully belong to others. Most scientists are ethical and follow this unwritten rule; no one would like to end up being labeled a plagiarist. Of course mistakes are made and usually those cases are sorted out by the author and the journal, or by the author and his or her co-authors. But if you knowingly plagiarize and are caught doing so, the consequences can be unpleasant for your career.

I was an anonymous article reviewer for a number of journals for well over twenty years. Article reviewing is voluntary; we scientists do not get paid for helping the journals in this way. I have come across blatant plagiarism (of words or ideas) only several times in that period of time. In one case, the authors copied and pasted whole abstracts and paragraphs in the Introduction from one of their previously-published articles to a manuscript they were writing and wished to submit for review. They did this in order to pass off their new article as original. We’re talking about the exact same abstract and introductory paragraph(s) showing up in two different papers, with only a drug concentration or amount changed to indicate that the new article was different from the previous one. They did not bother to cite their previous article (had they done so, it would have been less problematic). In other words, the authors plagiarized themselves (self-plagiarism), which you might think is not plagiarism, except that it is. This type of behavior has positive consequences for the authors if their behavior is not discovered. We academics know why this is done—to increase the number of publications on one’s publication list. In this case, the authors had tested the effects of five different chemicals on cancer cells, and published the effects of each one individually (five separate papers instead of one paper detailing the effects of all five chemicals). Since the methodology involved in each paper was the same, as were the aims of the studies, the authors were too lazy to write new abstracts and introductions for each article. It happens more often than you might think and is not discovered so often, mostly because many reviewers won’t google previous publications by the authors in question due to lack of time or interest (another kind of laziness). How did I find out that the authors had done this? Interested as I was in the subject matter, I googled some of their previous articles. After I saw what the authors had done, I recommended to the editor that the manuscript be refused and the authors chastised for this practice. What I know for sure is that the article was published as it was (without any changes) in another journal (low impact-factor), because those journals are desperate for articles to publish. They need them for their existence.

Another case involved a high-profile group who published a rather banal article in the late 1990s in one of the best journals in the science field. Their article documented the use of a technology that could be used to assess DNA content in cancer cells. It was presented as though this was a novel finding, which it most certainly was not. I happen to personally know the researchers who invented this technique and published many articles about it twenty years before the publication in the elite journal; nowhere in that article were the original researchers referenced. I and many others wrote letters to the editor pointing this out, expecting the journal to retract the article or at least write a short commentary about the situation. Nothing happened. The journal did not want to upset the research group involved, so nothing happened. No consequences. When you’re the elite, when you sit at the top, you can get away with a lot. I learned that already in my late thirties/early forties, with nearly thirty years to go in the academic research arena.

So back to Claudine Gay, who as president of Harvard was making close to a million dollars a year. I’ve read some of the articles about what she did; the most descriptive one so far (in terms of comparisons of Gay’s writing versus the original articles she is accused of plagiarizing) was written by Sophia Nguyen and published in The Washington Post: Timeline: Plagiarism allegations against Claudine Gay - The Washington Post . It is possible to read the article for free if you register your email address with them. After reading the article, I say, Gay should have known better. Harvard University should have known better and reacted differently and much earlier. But many elite universities would probably have done the same--swept the affair under the rug as a tempest in a teapot. But they’re wrong, it is an important matter, because the entire affair allows for a way of thinking that is already prevalent in our society. That laziness is ok, mediocrity is good enough, taking credit for others’ work is ok as long as you don’t get caught, but if you get caught, talk your way out of it. One must strive for ethical behavior at all levels of academia. It’s hard work (the antithesis of laziness) and sometimes you’re fighting against the crowd, but in the end, you have to live with yourself and answer to yourself.

Reflections on careers--my husband's and my own

I remember the first time I traveled abroad; it was in August 1987. I attended a flow cytometry conference in Cambridge, England, and had planned my trip such that I had a few days to myself in London before I made my way north to Cambridge by train. I've written about this trip before, so I won't retell the story. Suffice it to say that I met some really wonderful people who made me feel right at home in England, and I'll never forget them. 

The Society for Analytical Cytology (SAC)--that was the organization responsible for the conference. It is now known as the International Society for Advancement of Cytometry (ISAC), even though it was always an international conference from day one. When I started working in the Investigative Cytology lab at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in 1982, I had the privilege of working with some of the founding fathers of flow cytometry/flow cytometric techniques--Myron Melamed, Zbigniew Darzynkiewicz, Frank Traganos, and Don Evenson. I knew already then that I was in the presence of scientific visionaries; men who were ambitious and generous with their expertise and time. Their lab was a dynamic place; inspiring and progressive. There was room to grow, and I did, under their tutelage. Their generosity extended to allowing all lab members to travel to relevant conferences, and that's how I ended up in Cambridge, England. 

After I arrived in Cambridge and settled in (a simple dorm room with a bed, desk, closet and chair), I found my way to the conference hall for the introductory lecture and presentation of the conference schedule. I sat alone in the auditorium, but after some time a woman entered and went to the podium area to check on the microphones. I have never forgotten her because she had dark hair with a large gray streak; her name was Donna Arndt-Jovin. From what I heard at a later time point, she was an American who had married a German scientist, Tom Jovin, and they lived in Germany. When I heard more about her life, I thought it was so interesting that she had married a fellow scientist and that they shared a passion for flow cytometry. This was before I met my husband, so I had no idea of what was to transpire in the coming years. The only thing I knew was that I liked the fact that they were professional equals. It appealed to me, to be able to share your work life with your spouse. 

My husband retired yesterday, and his department (Radiation Biology) gave him a very nice sendoff--an afternoon gathering with cakes, coffee, and speeches about his 44-year long career and what he has meant to his department. He is one of a rare breed of employees that remained at the same workplace for his entire career, of course in different positions. He started as a Master student, got his PhD in biophysics, did a postdoc, and then was hired as a full-time cancer researcher. He eventually became a research group leader but also leader of the flow cytometry core facility. I met him in 1987 in Cambridge, when he came over to and sat down at our table in one of the pubs my lab colleagues and I frequented. I believe it was the pub where Watson and Crick (of DNA helix structure fame) met and discussed their findings. He and I hit it off, and the rest as they say is history. 

I reflected on all of this yesterday when I listened to the talks and saw the slides that rotated continually throughout the afternoon. Some of them were of him and me, together at conferences. We looked so young in some of them; so strange to think that we are now at retirement age. We attended nearly every flow cytometry conference that SAC and ISAC arranged, which meant that we got to travel to some interesting places, among them: Hilton Head Island, SC; Cambridge, England; Breckenridge, CO; Asheville, NC; Bergen, Norway; Colorado Springs, CO; Lake Placid, NY; Montpellier, France (twice); Budapest, Hungary; Leipzig, Germany. The Norwegian Cancer Society was always generous enough to pay for these conferences; the professional and social (networking) gains were worth the money. Even though I moved to Norway after I met my husband, I kept in touch with my former colleagues via these meetings, and of course via Christmas cards and eventually emails. It always felt like a small world--this network of cytometrists. We all knew each other, and it was always enjoyable to meet again at conferences. 

I retired in August 2021, and now my husband is retired. We were both cancer researchers (my PhD is in tumor cell biology) and flow cytometrists. I realized yesterday that my first thought at my first conference in Cambridge--that it would be nice to have a spouse who shared my work interests--in fact became a reality. I hadn't really reflected fully on that until yesterday when I saw the photos of us together. During the past thirty years, we've collaborated on a number of research projects, and I must say that those times were fun times; not only enjoyable in terms of both our research teams working together and getting to know each other, but also the professional enjoyment connected to a job well-done (published papers and presentations at meetings). I'm thankful for the past thirty years, that we made that happen. We chose that path, despite the occasional difficulties and differences of opinion. It was worth it. 

When I retired, I was happy to leave my workplace behind. I had been ready to do so for several years prior. I too was given a nice sendoff by my department, and I left knowing that I had done the best job I could do under the circumstances (very little research support and reduced staff). However, I do feel that he was valued in a more concrete way by his department than I was by mine; he had firmer support from research leadership than I did. I stay in touch with former colleagues; we meet for dinner a few times a year, and in the summertime, I invite them to a garden party. I hope for my husband that he stays in touch with some of his colleagues, who became friends over the years. They will miss him, that I know, because he, like my former bosses at Memorial, was very knowledgeable and generous with his expertise and time. 

The phoenix rises from the ashes

Two months of freedom. It's been nearly two months since I retired. I don't miss the daily grind and I don't miss my former workplace. I miss some of the people I worked with, but that's about it. 

I was out with three former colleagues and friends last night to celebrate my retirement. We ended up at a very nice Italian restaurant called Olivia--very good food and a very pleasant atmosphere. We talked for almost three hours straight, mostly about my former workplace, since they've all worked there over the years. None of them miss it. Strange how that is. We all have different reasons for not missing it, but most of them come down to the arrogance of some of the male leaders (and one female leader) in our department, many of whom thought they were far brighter than they are, as well as the built-in egoism and arrogance of academia. The problem is that you are never good enough except when you drag in a lot of research funding. Then you are worth something. Money talks. It always has and always will. And who you know trumps what you know, every time. George Orwell's quote always comes to mind when I think about some of these 'great' research leaders "All pigs are equal, but some pigs are more equal than others". That about sums up the research experience in my former department. The bullshit that we got fed constantly was that if we wrote good grants and competed with these 'great' scientists, that we too would have a chance to get funding. The reality was that the same (large) research groups and the same researchers got funding every year, and every year one or two more 'small' scientists were squeezed out and deemed unproductive and lazy because they weren't getting funding. The lie we were asked to believe was that there was the real possibility of fair competition based on good ideas and expertise. The reality as I and many others see it was that much of the actual granting of funds was decided beforehand, based on who these researchers knew. As in, calls were made to the relevant political networks and contacts, who always take care of their own. Academia is often defined by cronyism--the appointment of friends and associates to positions of authority, without proper regard to their qualifications (from the online dictionary). A very disagreeable business at times, with the emphasis on business, because in the end, it always comes down to money. Who would miss this crap or the continual scorn heaped upon those scientists who didn't want to (or couldn't) do science the way the big guys did it? Scorn is something many of them are very good at publicly dishing out, so that everyone in their vicinity knows that they're the important guys and the rest are just the stupid underdogs who should serve them. I understand that scientists need to bring in funds to do their research, but there should still be room for small scientists who never wanted to be leaders of huge research centers, who were content with a small research group and with just enough funding to get by each year. What was wrong with that way of doing science? Not everyone has sky-high ambitions; some simply want to do good research the way it was done in the 1990s and early 2000s, before politicians got involved and started demanding results for the money that was appropriated. Politics and science are not a good mix. And lest anyone think that more money equals better science, that is not necessarily true. There is a lot of good science that has resulted from limited funding. Politicians should remember that.  

My self-confidence is slowly returning. The past ten years in academia have been akin to being in a bad marriage where one gets harassed for the least little thing, where there is no kindness, no empathy, no understanding, just unreasonable demands, abuse, distress and unhappiness. My friend's father used to say 'don't let the turkeys get you down'. I tried not to let them get me down every day for the past ten years. I spent much of my time trying to build up the self-confidence of students who were treated rudely by their arrogant mentors in those 'great' research groups; I consoled tearful PhD students and postdocs who were members of those research groups. That took the focus off myself, so that I had little time to deal with my own problems. But my own self-confidence suffered, no doubt about that. I remember wanting to shift jobs back in 2010 and struggling to find something cohesive and positive to say about myself and my expertise. But I am proud of the fact that I never let myself be defeated by those leaders for whom I had NO respect. That has never happened in the past and will never happen as long as I remember to put my soul first. The health of my soul trumps any attempt to destroy my self confidence, my faith, my positivity, my kindness, my empathy. The health of my soul is all that matters. The rest of it--the bullshit--can just fall away. I don't view retirement as an end to anything other than an end to ten years of bullshit. That bullshit has been placed on a huge bonfire and has been reduced to nothing but ashes. The purveyors of the bullshit are another story; I'm guessing that karma will take care of them. One can only hope. And one can hope for a return to a time when what you knew trumped who you know. But I doubt that will happen in my lifetime. 

The phoenix rises from the ashes of the past. We rise from the ashes of our past selves. We are renewed. We are new people. We emerge from the shadows, we are no longer held under the thumbs of those who do not wish us well. We are free, free to fly. That is a good feeling. No amount of money can trump freedom--the freedom to decide for ourselves how we want to live the rest of our lives. 

Our recently-published article in Anticancer Research

I'm proud of our article that was just published in Anticancer Research. The article has been placed in 'Issue Highlights' as well (Anticancer Research (iiarjournals.org). It's a nice way to round off my career in academic science. My co-authors and I worked hard on this article; we started the work in 2017 and I finished most of the data analysis and writing of the article in February 2021. One of the co-authors (Sean Pham) did his Masters degree studying one of the DNA repair proteins (PARP1); he successfully defended his work in 2018. So all in all--a productive last four years. I'm grateful to know/have known some wonderful research technicians, Masters students, PhD students, and pathologists. Without them, this article would never have seen the light of day. Teamwork. When science is about teamwork and working together toward the goal of publishing what one studies, nothing in the world beats it--that feeling of contributing new knowledge to the field, however small a contribution. That feeling has nothing to do with power or politics, just with pure knowledge and intellectual satisfaction. 

I also want to thank the research foundation at Oslo University Hospital for their generous support of my research during the past ten years. I don't know what I would have done without them, because most small academic scientists like myself, who enjoy working independently and are not part of huge centers of excellence, don't get funding anymore from the large granting organizations and institutions like the Norwegian Cancer Society and the Norwegian Research Council. So thanks to the hospital research foundation from the bottom of my heart. You kept us going during tough times. I'd like to think that your support of us is money well-spent. 

Here is the link to the article if you'd like to check it out: DNA Repair Protein Expression and Oxidative/Nitrosative Stress in Ulcerative Colitis and Sporadic Colorectal Cancer | Anticancer Research (iiarjournals.org)

Women and self-confidence

I could have entitled this post 'Women and self-confidence in academia'. But I reconsidered because many of my reflections can be generalized to other professions. It's just that academia is what I know. I've worked as a full-fledged scientist in academia for twenty-two years, and before that, spent six years working on my doctorate. I've worked in a mostly man-dominated profession--cancer research--even though during the last fifteen years or so women have made many inroads into this field. When I did my doctoral work during the 1990s, most mentors were men, and the one woman in my department who headed her own research group was unqualified for the position, in my opinion. Time proved me right. 

I've had the privilege of mentoring/co-mentoring seven younger women and three younger men who have been interested in doing doctoral or Masters degree work. I've taken my mentoring responsibilities seriously, as I've done with most of my career responsibilities. All of the younger people I've mentored have finished their degrees successfully. Not one of them quit, although there were three women who wanted to quit at times (when life was made unbearable for them by other mentors). After many years in this business, I've realized that there are clear differences between women and men in terms of the self-confidence they bring to the table. Two of the men I've co-mentored took PhD degrees in record time; they were finished with their lab work within three years and defended their work not long after. Their self-confidence levels were high throughout; neither of them had any misgivings about their capabilities or expertise, and neither of them suffered from that nagging feeling that they were not good enough. They knew they were, and they acted accordingly. They didn't have to learn to take center stage; they were comfortable being the centers of attention when all eyes were on them. They adapted quickly, finished quickly, and moved into the private sector once they finished their doctoral work. The PhD degree was the key to their future career success in private industry; they understood that, and also made it clear to those around them that they were not interested in academic careers. These are my observations about them, after having had a number of conversations with them. We had a good rapport for the most part; the guidance they needed from me was more collaborative. They were driven and self-motivated, and if they suffered from any negative or anxious feelings, they hid them well. They also received a large amount of positive feedback and praise from their male co-mentor, who was a bit more sparse in dealing the same out to the women for whom he's been a co-mentor. 

All of the women I've mentored/co-mentored had completely different experiences. They did not adapt to their chosen paths quickly. They took their time, felt their way forward, sometimes stumbling in the dark. They were not afraid to say that they were anxious about not measuring up, and in three cases, the treatment they received at the hands of the other co-mentor was often crippling to their self-confidence. When I have reflected upon this, I conclude that male mentors are more supportive of the men they mentor than they are of the women they mentor. I don't know why, but I wonder if it has to do with the level of comfort and camaraderie they feel with other men. I have had many discussions with this particular male mentor about his behavior; I've had to tell him not to be rude, disparaging, arrogant, and dismissive. He's been all those things, mostly to women. Perhaps he is an isolated case as a mentor. I don't know. He's had a lot of power and been given a lot of leeway. In short, he's been allowed to behave pretty much as he's wanted to all these years. He might not have behaved this way with the men he mentored because he knew they'd fight back. I don't know that either. The women have not fought back. Part of my mentoring them was to teach them to fight back--that they don't need to take all of the crap dished out to them (just because they are women). They are allowed to fight back; I've said that, and I've supported them when they did.  

I've been available to my students, male and female. The men needed me less; the women needed me more. Almost thirty years after I started my own doctoral work, I see that times haven't changed all that much. I had no one to talk to when times got tough (my husband was some help, but he wasn't my main mentor), so I promised myself that when it was my turn to be a mentor, I would be there for my students. And I've lived up to that promise. My mentor was a man, by turns rude and supportive, if that is possible. He didn't push me around because he knew I'd fight him back, even though it took me some years to learn how to do that. He did respect my intelligence, albeit grudgingly at times. But as I've told the women I've mentored, I never had a problem with self-confidence when it came to my work. I knew I was good, good enough to be a scientist and good enough to be a project group leader. I know my limitations and my strengths. I've been told that I was good but not good enough by one of my research leaders (a man), and I ignored him and continued to do what I do best. I've gotten all my students through their degree work; he has not. He has harassed many of the post-docs he's hired and they left his lab demotivated and discouraged about their place in science. I know this because they (women and men alike) have come into my office to share their stories with me over the years. He made mincemeat of whatever self-confidence they had at the time they were in his lab. Why? Who knows. I could write a long treatise on him, but he's not worth the effort. One thing is clear to me; the harassment of women doesn't end when they finish their doctoral work. Once a woman becomes a worthy competitor to a man, that's when the harassment intensifies. Academia is a hotbed of competition, bad behavior, arrogance, and harassment. Sometimes it amazes me that any good work actually gets done amidst the political crap that goes on. I wonder too how some people live with themselves.  

Being a mentor involves so many things, but mostly it boils down to coaching and motivation, in addition to understanding the work involved. You cannot be a good mentor unless you understand the projects, the science, the lab work, and the ins and outs of academia. I am a cheerleader of sorts, praising students for a job well-done, listening to them when times are tough and providing encouragement to continue working when everything seems dark and unforgiving. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel. Keep placing one foot in front of the other and you'll get there. The only way out is through. Don't give up. This too shall pass. Sometimes just saying those words is enough for some students. Knowing that they've been listened to, that someone cares about them and their projects and goals, is the motivation they need to continue. If I've played such a role in their lives, I've done a good job, and I'm happy. And it makes me happy to see them succeed. 

 

Stick to your business

Many years ago, my husband and I had the privilege of working in a large lab in California headed by a man whom I can only call a visionary scientist. He was one of those rare scientists who made things happen, whose ideas were ground-breaking and game-changers. It was an exciting time in our lives, when we ourselves were still young scientists who hadn’t yet built scientific careers. Even then, I was an observer in terms of watching how he led his lab, and I learned a lot from him. For starters, he surrounded himself with talented people who were smart and who worked hard. He expected a lot from them, but the rewards for producing were good. He was good at picking the right people to have around him—a good blend of visionaries like himself as well as scientists who were able to translate his ideas into practice using ingenuity and inventiveness and the more technical scientists who were able to use these new ideas and procedures to answer specific questions and to generate more questions. In all cases, these scientists were concerned with the practice of science, and they stuck to their business, to what they were good at. He was also an excellent grant writer who had paid his dues working in national government labs for most of his adult life; he had learned the practice of science and managed to draw in quite a lot of funding for the lab that he headed.

I remember that he visited us here in Oslo some years later. I picked him up at his hotel to drive him back to our house for dinner, to which we had invited another couple who also worked in science. It was a pleasant evening. But what I remember most was the conversation I had with him when we were driving to our house at the beginning of the evening. I had just finished my doctoral work and was starting on my postdoctoral work, but I had some misgivings about pursuing an academic career. I was describing to him my different interests and how I felt pulled in several different directions. I remember exactly what he said to me--‘stick to your business’. That was about twenty years ago. Since then, the world of academic research science has changed tremendously, and it has become harder to stick to the business of just doing science. Business administration, leadership education, public relations and social networking have become part and parcel of an academic scientific career. To some extent, they always were, from the standpoint that it was good to know how to run a lab or to run a research group, but they weren’t the main focus. The main focus was always on the science. Nowadays, it is quite different. There is a multifocal approach to science that I don’t think benefits the profession because the multifocal aspects are time-drainers. Academic scientists are pulled in all directions now; they are supposed to be scientists, grant writers, business leaders, networkers, sales people, administrators, technical managers, and personnel managers. They are expected to understand complicated accounting and budget practices. They are expected to understand a multitude of bureaucratic procedures, all of which involve complicated legal aspects having to do with e.g. patient confidentiality if one works with patient data. One should understand the use of databases, registers, and complex statistical programs. There are lengthy leadership courses to attend so that one can become a good business leader. There are courses having to do with animal welfare if you plan on using animals for experiments, courses about good clinical practice, how to biobank, how to use quality registers, how to create quality presentations, how to write fundable grants, LEAN for hospital administration, and so on. It all ‘sounds’ good in theory, but in practice, they all take valuable time away from the actual doing of science, which is the only activity that will make you a good scientist. Working in the lab and actually doing science are what make you a good scientist. Reading scientific articles, coming up with new ideas based on what you’ve read, trying and failing, making mistakes, learning and following procedures and recipes, making solutions and buffers, reading technical manuals for complicated instrumentation, writing and publishing scientific articles, writing grants—all of those things will ensure that you become a good scientist. Taking a course here and there to learn a new lab procedure that will aid your scientific project is a good idea. Mentoring Masters and PhD students is also a good idea and will help you become a good mentor and manager. Training research technicians and working closely together with them on research projects will make you a good manager, or at least reveal to you whether or not you will qualify to be a research group leader. The rewards for such mentoring and training will be competent workers and independent thinkers who will further your research projects. That is sticking to your business. Attending generalized business leadership courses, although interesting, will not make you a better scientist. But nowadays, it is the norm to be all things to all people. In the space of twenty years, academic science has become less scientific and more business-like. It has been a strange evolution that I don’t think has been beneficial for the profession. The overall idea is perhaps that scientists should be able to adapt themselves to any profession if necessary. But the visionary aspect of science loses out. The purity of science loses out. Academic science has moved in a more mundane direction, concerned more with business administration/practices, PR, salesmanship, networking, self-improvement, public speaking, and interpersonal skills than with much else. Yes, it helps to be able to hold a polished presentation, or to know how to network, but something has been lost in the process. Perhaps it is what I call the eccentricities and difficulties of science and scientists. The practice of science is not supposed to be smooth and predictable, or controllable, or able to be perfectly regulated. The unpredictability of doing research, the not knowing how it all will turn out, is what makes academic science interesting and rewarding. It is the eureka moments in the lab that one remembers, those moments when you know that the practice of pure science is worth it. 

Questions from an astronomy hobbyist

After watching the excellent BBC series The Planets, I realized that I know little to nothing about how we actually get rockets off the ground and into space in order for them to explore our solar system. That is probably the case for most people; they're content just to watch the marvel of space travel without understanding it. And I agree--it is wondrous to watch rockets take off, escape the pull of gravity, move into orbit around the earth, and even to watch booster rockets return to their launch pads as was the case with one of the SpaceX missions in 2019 (https://youtu.be/HVqWEoyiaBA). I haven't experienced the need to understand some of what is actually going on, until now. Because I have so many questions; you can't watch programs like The Planets and not have questions. For example, why are planets round in shape, rather than rectangular or octagonal? The answer is gravity. If you want the full answer, google this question and read some of the links that are returned. As it turns out, gravity is the answer to many of the questions about what has gone on and what goes on in the solar system--e.g. the formation of the planets. So what is gravity? My husband smiles when I ask this question; he studied biophysics in college and has a good background in math and physics. There is no simple answer. He reminds me that astronomers and scientists have been studying gravity forever, and will probably still be studying it a century from now. As Wikipedia states:
Attempts to develop a theory of gravity consistent with quantum mechanics, a quantum gravity theory, which would allow gravity to be united in a common mathematical framework (a theory of everything) with the other three fundamental interactions of physics, are a current area of research. 

So, for those of you who understand much more than I do in this field, you'll have to pardon my ignorance. These are my questions listed below, and I'm well on my way to reading about each of them, albeit, reading the articles about them written for lay people. My understanding of the complicated math and physics necessary to understand all of this ended when I was in my second year of college (I hit the math wall when we began to study the derivatives of trigonometric functions). So my interest in astronomy and cosmology is purely that of a hobbyist.

• What are the different kinds of rockets?
• What powers a booster rocket?
• What powers main engine rockets?
• Where are booster and main rockets manufactured?
• Where is the fuel manufactured?
• There is solid fuel and liquid fuel--which ones are used in the different types of rockets?
• Why are nuclear reactors not used to power rockets?
• What keeps rockets going in deep space; why don't they use up their fuel quickly?
• Why do spaceships go into orbit? To save fuel? 
• How did the SpaceX booster rockets manage to get back to earth? Most of the time the booster rockets end up in the oceans and are retrieved by ships for reuse at future launches.
• What is a gravitational slingshot (gravity assist)?
• What is tidal force? (this played a huge role in the formation of the planets)

These are just some of the questions I have, and am currently exploring online in order to find answers that I can understand as a layperson. NASA itself has a very good website that provides a lot of useful information: https://www.nasa.gov/ , and there are other very good websites for astronomy hobbysists as well. 

After seeing the movie Interstellar in 2014, my interest in our universe really took off, if for no other reason than that I wanted to understand some of the concepts brought up in that movie (tesseracts, for example). I bought the book The Science of Interstellar, written by Kip Thorne, and read it carefully. But prior to that, my interest was already piqued by many of the astronomy lectures sponsored by the University of Oslo's Science Library when I worked there as a consultant from 2010 to 2013. There was and is a healthy interest in astronomy and cosmology on this campus, and it was reflected in the choice of invited speakers. And if I think back even further, to when I was a pre-teenager and a teenager, I was already interested in science fiction, reading authors like Ray Bradbury, Madeleine L' Engle, Isaac Asimov, C.S. Lewis, Ira Levin, and others. So the table was set many years ago. At least I know how I am going to use some of my time when I retire; I plan on visiting Cape Canaveral in Florida again (this time I'll appreciate it more), as well as at least one of the astronomical observatories in the USA as well as one here in Norway (not far from Oslo). As one of my former university professors wrote to me recently, 'you'll definitely have no problem keeping yourself intellectually occupied'. I think he's right.

In praise of NASA

I've been watching the BBC series The Planets, narrated by professor Brian Cox. It's an amazing and breathtakingly beautiful series, and I highly recommend it. So far I've seen the following episodes:

• Life Beyond the Sun--Saturn
• Into the Darkness--Ice Worlds, which covers Uranus, Neptune, the former planet Pluto and the Kuiper Belt
• A Moment in the Sun--The Terrestrial Planets, which covers Mercury, Venus, and Mars and discusses them comparatively with Earth

The final two episodes deal with Jupiter, Earth and Mars, and I'm looking forward to seeing them. 

Besides the wonder inspired by Cox's fascinating presentation of the planets in our solar system, I am in awe of all that the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) has accomplished since they started their space exploration program in 1958. Founded by President Dwight Eisenhower, this independent agency of the US federal government has delivered time and again, exploring the far reaches of our solar system and uncovering the secrets of the planets and the moons that orbit them. 

But it is the daily lives of the NASA employees that interest me as well--the astronauts, astronomers, cosmologists, technicians, engineers, computer scientists, biologists, geologists--the team of scientists who work together to bring about the success of each space mission. There have been catastrophic failures from which they have learned, and moved on from. But the successes are brilliant and breathtaking, and I love watching the control room explode into joy and relief when a mission has been successful--when pictures are received from millions of miles away from Earth, when a spacecraft lands and begins to move about a planet's surface, or just when the rocket carrying these probes into space takes off successfully. When I think about what NASA has accomplished--the engineering feats necessary to land a spacecraft/probe on distant planets, or to orbit them for long periods of time--I am impressed with the attention to the minutest detail that has facilitated the gorgeous pictures taken by cameras that survive the harshest atmospheres and conditions. Because it is that attention to detail that defines science and real scientists. It is why a scientific career is not for everyone, but for those of us who have worked in science, we can attest to the fact that the success of any experiment lies in the well-planned details. The basic knowledge has to be there first, along with creativity and futuristic visions, and the combination of these leads to the discovery of new data and realities that further our knowledge and expand our ways of looking at things. 

I am proud too of the politicians who envisioned this program for the USA. Despite the fact that it was part of our space race with the Russians during the Cold War era, it grew far beyond that into true scientific exploration. Little did the politicians know when NASA was established that men would actually walk on the moon, that motorized vehicles would traverse the surface of Mars, that spacecraft would travel out into the Kuiper Belt at the edge of our solar system. It boggles the mind, truly, to see what has been accomplished. Yes, it has been expensive, and there are those who would argue unnecessarily expensive, that the money could have been better spent on other things. Perhaps. But when I watch the public response to rocket lift-offs, to moon landings, to Mars landings, it tells me that it is worth the money. Because we are learning all the time, we are doing what man/woman is meant to do--explore his/her surroundings, question his/her origins, and ponder the meaning of life in general and his/her life in particular, on the one planet in our solar system that supports life as we know it. We are blessed each and every day to be able to wake up on a planet that provides all of the conditions we need to live. That by itself is awe-and -gratitude inspiring. 

Adjusting to continuous change

This coming year promises a good number of changes in my workplace. Most of them will be physical, in the sense that they involve physically moving several research groups and equipment from one floor to another floor in our building. That was decided a while ago, but as always, it takes a while for changes to be effectuated. The physical move will happen in March. Those research groups remaining behind will be sharing lab space with the routine functions and services in my department; those functions and services need more room, so the next major change and adjustment will involve how we share that space, how we discuss our needs amicably and find a solution that works for everyone. The reality however is that there is not nearly enough space for everyone, so some people are bound to be less satisfied than others with the agreed-upon solution.

Even if you decided to never actively adapt and change, to remain 'the same as you always were', you would never achieve that. Nothing stands still; all aspects of life and of work life change and will force themselves upon you. That is the nature of life. We are constantly adjusting to change, and it is best to stay open to change rather than fight it. The way research was done thirty years ago and the way it is done now are quite different. Thirty years ago it seemed as though everything about academic research science was more stable; now it seems more like big business that changes strategy every two to three years in order to maximize profits. When the daily stability of research life disappeared, it was difficult to adjust to that. After all, we were brought up on the idea that research needed stability, constancy, in order to thrive. In the 1990s, it was possible to work on one research project for ten years; you could get funding for one topic, e.g. apoptosis and cancer, and you had the time to experiment and to try new research plans. That is harder, if not impossible, nowadays; scientists change their research directions every three or four years in order to follow the trends of funding. Just in the cancer field alone, molecular genetics and genomics were trendy in the 1990s, as was apoptosis and cell death generally, then in the 2000s came cellular senescence, inflammation and its role in cancer, the search for cures for breast and prostate cancers, and the focus on many new and exciting techniques/technologies like microarray gene expression, RNA interference, knockout mice, and CRISPR. Immunotherapy to treat cancers has dominated research science for the past five or so years. So if you want funding and a career in academic science, you follow the current trends. That is what the younger scientists have learned; some of the older ones still fight against this reality.

It was easier to understand your role in a lab setting years ago--as a technician, PhD student, or postdoc. You knew you could rely on a group leader to guide you, and that group leader was often your mentor if you were a PhD student or postdoc. There were not multiple mentors as there are now. Your PhD years were not micromanaged by universities the way they are now. Thirty years ago the idea that you could be the lone scientist in the lab was encouraged; nowadays it is discouraged in favour of working as a team. If you want to work as an individual rather than in a team, if you want to promote and try out your own ideas, you are considered to be a non-team player, and that is anathema at present. The infrastructure of research science has also changed considerably; we share our workdays with IT personnel, administrators, middle-managers, accountants, among others. They were more behind the scenes thirty years ago. You won't get very far these days without the infrastructure of science. If you need lab consumables, you must deal with administrators and accounting people, because you are no longer allowed to order items on your own. You are no longer allowed to download any computer programs on your own; that is taken care of for you by the IT department, and the power they have to deny or approve specific programs can determine what may or may not get done in a research project.  

Academic science is big business now, with huge grant awards going to a small number of recipients. Those recipients often lead large research groups, e.g. centers of excellence. These large groups collaborate at the national and international levels with other large groups. Small research groups (four or five people) without national and international collaborators are not funded and eventually die away. That is the current strategy. If you don't like big business, you won't enjoy academic research science now. If you're young and you know this, the best thing you can do is to adjust your life accordingly--find another arena in which to use your talents and to shine. 

Some reflections on a Saturday morning.

Every now and then I reflect on my work career, and what it has been like/is like to be a woman in a mostly male-dominated profession (at least when I started out). When I started out in science, it was not unusual to find a preponderance of men in the top positions (professor, research leader, department leader, group leader), whereas the majority of women were research technicians, junior scientists, or assistant professors. Very few were department heads or group leaders. There are more women in science now, and more women in top positions, but that has been a gradual development, and the profession still struggles with the loss of women once they reach the critical points in their careers where they have to decide if they want to be research or group leaders. The demands on their time are intense, and it's often hard to combine that with family life. So that is one problem that I see still exists, almost forty years after I started out in science. The married women I knew who had top positions when I was starting out had husbands who chose less demanding professions, or both had help from nannies when raising their children. However it worked out, women struggled to balance it all, and they are still struggling. Even here in Norway, a lot of the recent surveys have concluded that women still hesitate to invest the time in top leader positions because of the inevitable conflicts with family life. I don't have an answer; I think there will always be a conflict, because it is a question of prioritizing. If we prioritize family life, then our work lives can suffer, and if we prioritize our work lives, our family lives can suffer. Finding the balance is not an easy task. I never had my own children, so I was never faced with that conflict. But of course I was faced with the challenge of not devoting all my waking hours to my work at the expense of my family life. Having a husband who works in the same profession and who understands the demands it makes on our time, has been a godsend. When we were struggling to build careers, we invested a lot of time in our work. I don't regret it, because I am sure that I would have done the same thing no matter what profession I chose. I was raised to work hard and do my best. That meant hard work and long hours in order to become good at something. And I am good at what I do.

The latter is something I think about often now as I approach retirement. Have I done the best job I could do? Have I been a good mentor and leader for the younger women and men coming after me? The answer to the first question is yes, I have done the best job I could do given the talents I have. I have become a good scientist, albeit not a great one, and that is fine with me. I found my niche and did my best. I can honestly say that. I've published nearly one hundred articles, have had the chance to lead a small team of researchers, managed to get funding to support my position until I was hired permanently by my hospital, and have mentored Master and PhD students. I have believed in myself even when the odds were against me. I did not give up on myself, and that is thanks to my early bosses. I had bosses early on (in New York) who pushed me and challenged me to take on new opportunities, some of which I feared. But I did. They saw potential in me and were not afraid to push me to do something with it. But they did it in a respectful way. When I moved to Norway, I confronted new challenges, but without the same level of personal interest from my bosses. They were more interested in their own careers than in mine. I have discovered that this was often the case in academic science (that I grew up with), which is highly competitive. If a senior researcher showed a professional interest in you, it mostly had to do with what you could do for them. The outcome in any case was that both won in a sense--the senior researcher got the necessary lab work done by others, but the junior researchers got publications that helped them in their own careers. So even if the latter felt like slaves at times, it often ended well once they moved up the ladder and started research groups of their own. That is the way it used to be well into the early 2000s. And then it all changed. Younger people no longer had the chance to start their own research groups; they were suddenly expected to work for a senior group leader until they were well into their late 40s/early 50s. A lot of young people simply cannot accept this and leave academia for greener pastures that give them the chances that my husband and I were given in the 1990s. We had an intellectual independence and freedom that is no longer encouraged; now it is expected that you work in a large research group for one senior research leader and that you simply accept your role passively. You are not encouraged to start your own research group, and the (natural) desire to do so is frowned upon--you are looked upon as a troublemaker if you go around stating that you would like more intellectual freedom and independence so that you can start your own research group. I do not support this new way of doing science; it does nothing but create frustration and disappointment in young people in their professional prime. But that's the way it is now. When I talk to young people, I tell them what it was like for my husband and me; I don't want them to think that it was always as restrictive and demotivating as it is now. But it doesn't always register, because young people often think that the present is the only thing that counts. We were like that too, I guess.

The answer to the second question is also yes, with reservations. I had to grow into the role of mentor, and I did make some mistakes early on, especially when a student was stubborn or narcissistic. Nevertheless, I think I have done the best job I could do under sometimes difficult circumstances. I have reflected upon the psychological costs involved in pursuing an academic scientific career. The daily assaults on your self confidence, your expertise, your way of treating students--are many. I realize that I have a healthy self confidence; if I think I am right, it is because I have reflected on a particular situation and come to a conclusion that reflects that investment of time and reflection. It will then be difficult to sway me. I operate using principles that I grew up with--I believe in fair play, respect, and justice, and I behave accordingly. I treat others as I would like to be treated. I have tried to encourage my students to think for themselves, to have their own ideas and opinions, to think creatively. I have tried to get women to stop feeling guilty for saying no when it is their right to do so. So many women still think that saying no, as in--I cannot do this or that for you right now, I have no time, or I have other priorities--is a wrong way to behave. It is not. In my experience, saying no is what gets you noticed (and I am not talking about saying no in a rude way to your boss or about being difficult for the sake of being difficult). Saying no prevents you from becoming someone else's doormat. Saying yes all the time may work out well for some people, but it does not work out well for women. Saying no when necessary may get you labeled as difficult, but that most women can live with, in my opinion, or should get used to living with. Because whatever profession you choose, there will come a time when saying no is what will get you noticed. Saying no says--I am doing the best job I can, and if you want me to do more, then you need to sit down with me and negotiate that. You need to negotiate a reciprocal relationship that is win-win for all, not just for the senior leaders. Women often fall back on the service aspect--serving others, and that is fine, but it is also about taking care of yourself and what you want. Women should not be doormats at work, nor at home, and a workplace culture that pushes women to aspire to being doormats is not a workplace you want to work in. Do you want to take on that extra project for no extra pay and no recognition, at the expense of your free time or your family time, just because your boss asks you to because he or she knows it will get done well if you do it rather than giving it to the shirker in the department? Do you want to be available 24/7 to a workplace that won't think twice about laying you off in times of budget crises?

The word 'professional' has taken on a new meaning for me now after many years in the workforce. I define it as behavior that involves doing the best job you can, in an expert way, without becoming too emotionally involved or too loyal to your workplace. It means being aware of your valuable skills at all junctures. It means visualizing how valuable you are to your present company but also to other workplaces. It means never forgetting that. It means standing up for yourself. It means being able to negotiate with senior leaders about how those skills are to be used. It means being rational, logical, objective, rather than emotional, illogical, and subjective. It means seeing both sides and keeping a cool head in situations where others might become irrational (playing it cool). It means remaining centered in yourself; it means not letting other people push you off balance. Women need to learn more of this, and to learn the value of their own worth. Women also need to give up the idea that they need to be ‘rescuers’. Where you would rush in to save a sinking project that is the result of someone else's negligence (too many women I know), you should hold back and let it sink. You should let the chips fall where they may. You should let the shirkers face the negative feedback; let them face being exposed for the shirkers they are. You should let the bullies and harassers sink and not make excuses for them. You should not defend the demotivators or try to explain away their behavior. You should hold other people accountable for their bad behavior and not keep your mouth shut when you see injustice. You should not just blindly follow the crowd. You should stand apart, express your ideas and opinions, and keep on expressing them, in a professional and respectful way. You should remind yourself that 'being respectful and nice does not define you as a weak person', and that 'saying no does not define you as a bad person'. This is what I say to women now--be professional, have a healthy self-confidence, think for yourselves, and don't become workplace doormats. It's the only way to grow into the best versions of yourselves.

Those immortal egotists

There are people in society generally who think they’re going to live forever. They don’t acknowledge that they’ve gotten older, or if they do, it’s always got to be at the expense of someone in their vicinity. As in, ‘yes, I know I’m 75 years old, but you’re getting old/older too’. It’s as though they can never accept that they are old and that the world is no longer their oyster. They also cannot accept that the younger generation is replacing them at work, nor do they want to facilitate this process in the slightest. They will be lying on their deathbeds protesting that they still have so much to do, that their work is so important, and that no one can take their place. Never have I heard one of them say that they are satisfied with their long careers and that it’s time to hand the torch to the younger generation. They grudgingly give up their cushy leadership positions, they resent that they cannot get funding past a certain age, and when they are hospitalized for a serious illness (true story for one person I knew, now deceased), they are already making travel plans to hold their next lecture in one or another foreign country. They refuse to acknowledge old age or infirmity. Mortality does not exist.

I am no age discriminator. I am happy for the past-retirement age people I know who are still happily working in my workplace. Most of them have made their peace with their age and their retirement, and work part-time helping out on different research projects where they can contribute with their expertise. Win-win for all involved. The people I’m talking about are the few retirees who think they still rule the roost and that everything revolves around them, their wishes, and their projects and ideas. The egotists, the great immortal scientists, who cannot accept defeat or the fact that the younger scientists are taking their places. If you are one of these people, you will get zero sympathy from me. Why? Because everything is about you, your career (mostly on ice), your 'promising' future, your next research project that’s going to make you a star. You are pissed that the rest of the world doesn’t see how great you are or how much you have to offer. It doesn’t matter that you don’t care about the rules and regulations that have grown up around the practice of science; no, you want to do science, and you want your students to do science, the ‘way you always did it. It worked for me. I don’t care about the rules and regulations, and neither should my students, because I said so.’

I have no problem with a lifelong intellectual interest in science; I see that I will also have it when I am old. But I have a big problem when your unlimited ego interferes with the lives and careers of students who depend on you to be a mature person, to let go of your ego and to put their lives and careers first. But no, the great almighty immortal egotistical scientists cannot do this. They cannot let go, because that would be tantamount to admitting they were old and mortal. They cannot see reason, they cannot be mature, they must throw tantrums when their wishes are hindered, and they must get their way. All in the name of what? What is it they are going to achieve now in their mid-70s? I don’t doubt that their contributions are still worthwhile. I do doubt that their contributions are going to lead to abundant funding for their immortal research projects. I think that the really good scientists in the world are those who can pass the torch to their students and to the younger generation, who are generous with help and praise, and who do not set up roadblocks every step of the way for the students they mentor. These are the non-egotists, and these are the scientists who will be immortalized by history.

Weighing in on #distractinglysexy

This past week showed me just how well female scientists can defend themselves against the sexism that still exists in the noble profession of academia. It also pointed out to me yet again the power of social media, for better or for worse, in dealing with political incorrectness. For those of you who don’t know what transpired, here’s the story. The 2001 Nobel Prize winner Sir Tim Hunt from Britain, 72 years old, opened a conference in South Korea with what he deemed to be a joke about women in science. He said essentially that girls (he did not use the word women, mind you) fall in love with you and you with them, that they distract you (men) from doing science, that they cry when criticized, and that he was in favor of single-sex labs *. Social media exploded predictably with appropriate and inappropriate responses. Hunt later apologized for his foolish remarks but not for his beliefs. Because he does believe that what he said about women is the truth. Nowadays you have to be very careful about what you say if you are in the public eye, because social media will try you and fry you for your transgressions, superficial opinions and comments. I’m not going to enter a debate about the pros and cons of social media; I leave that to others. I will say that I found the responses of a majority of female scientists to be quite amusing. Rather than going on a strident attack, they responded to the situation in a humorous fashion. I don’t know who started the hashtag #distractinglysexy, but if you go onto Twitter and search for it, you will be rewarded with a number of tweets that will leave you laughing—photos and accompanying comments of women dressed in lab coats, protective gear, goggles, hats, etc., all of whom comment on how ‘distractingly sexy’ they look while carrying out their laboratory work. They took the piss out of Hunt’s comments by doing so. That is the intelligent and cunning response.  

I have worked in laboratories all my working life. Being a scientist has been my career. I’ve done alright through the years, and as many of my readers know from other posts, I’ve had the support of male mentors who have done their level best to ensure that I succeeded, or had the same opportunities as the men around me to succeed. But there were a few men who behaved questionably toward me up through the years. I learned to deflect their sexist comments that came my way—about sitting on their laps, about the view of my rear end when I bent over, about my being ‘unbalanced’ when I shed a few tears in anger and frustration about not getting a raise I more than deserved, and about whether I planned on becoming pregnant. I am well aware that I am no exception to these kinds of comments; I grew up in an era when women were making inroads into the workforce and certain types of men found that threatening, irritating, or pointless. They needed to make women feel inferior; I remember thinking ‘their poor wives, having to put up with them’. Certain types of men still react that way. Unfortunately, I learned along the way that certain types of women also react that way. Not all women help other women in the lab. Again, we can argue for and against this fact. Should women support women unequivocally? I try to provide moral support for the younger women I work with, simply because I know how hard it is to climb the academic ladder. But I do the same with the younger men as well. Because their lot is not easy these days either; there is less money and fewer positions. It’s a dog-eat-dog world in academia, even more so than before.

This episode points out that the world NEEDS to be reminded every now and then of all of the women in science who have done terrific science, who have worked tirelessly to promote good science, who have won Nobel Prizes, some of whom have done so while raising a family. Kudos to them—to Marie Curie, Barbara McClintock, Gertrude Elion, Rosalind Franklin, Ada Lovelace, Rita Levi-Montalcini, Rachel Carson, Dian Fossey, Jane Goodall, Lise Meitner, Elizabeth Blackburn, and Dorothy Hodgkin, to name a few. I could also list the many female scientists I know internationally who plod along, doing their daily work, writing papers, publishing, and mentoring students. All of them are equal-opportunity employers and mentors; I don’t think I’ve ever heard one of them express a preference for female students or employees at the expense of men. They are not sexist. Perhaps the male twits in the scientific community could learn from and be inspired by them, and then maybe we would not have to listen to their twaddle any longer.

Apropos, I was going to call this post 'A Twit, His Twaddle, and Twitter', but opted for the current title. But I like the other one too (I'm happy with the alliteration).

*This is what Tim Hunt was reported to have said:

“Let me tell you about my trouble with girls........Three things happen when they are in the lab: You fall in love with them, they fall in love with you, and when you criticize them they cry.” After offering an apparent apology, he dug the hole he was in even deeper when he said “I did mean the part about having trouble with girls. It's terribly important that you can criticize people’s ideas without criticizing them and if they burst into tears, it means that you tend to hold back from getting at the absolute truth. Science is about nothing but getting at the truth.”

Jupiter and three of its largest moons

I've been using my telescope during January to watch Jupiter and to follow the orbital positions of its four largest moons--Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto. These four moons are called the Galilean moons because they were first discovered by Galileo Galilei around 1610. Io is the moon closest to Jupiter, while Callisto is the farthest from Jupiter. Regarding the length of the orbital periods for each moon, Io takes 1.769 days to orbit Jupiter, Europa 3.551 days, Ganymede 7.155 days, and Callisto 16.69 days. This makes it interesting to watch them, because it is possible to see the changes in their positions relative to Jupiter. I've been drawing their positions and at the same time trying to get a decent photo of them and of Jupiter with my digital SLR camera. Despite what I've read online, it's a tricky business to get a good photo, even when I follow the advice given. I plan on taking photos as often as I can; it's not each night that one can do that, due to clouds, fog, precipitation or other interferences that block the view. Some nights, I have been able to see all four moons, but not get a good photo. If I get a good photo of all four of them, I'll post the pic. Tonight I managed for the first time since I got my telescope to get a good photo of Jupiter and three of its moons. I'm posting the original photo and a cropped version to get a better view (a good suggestion from my husband). Enjoy.

The above image--cropped to get a closer view: Jupiter and three of its moons

My new interest in one of the oldest sciences--astronomy

My post today will be about astronomy. It is one of the oldest sciences, dating back to some of the earliest world civilizations. This natural science is a study of celestial objects such as stars, galaxies, planets, moons, asteroids, comets and nebulae, as well as of the physics, chemistry and evolution that help to explain their existence (modified from Wikipedia). I am not sure when my interest in astronomy really took hold, but it has developed and grown during the past year, and reached the point where I decided I wanted to buy a telescope so that I could begin to gaze at the sky. Lucky me--my husband decided to make that purchase my Christmas present. So I am now the happy owner of a Skywatcher BK 705 AZ3 Telescope. It is a great telescope for beginners; you can gain more information about it by watching this excellent video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0YK9968ubY. This telescope costs about three hundred dollars, and allows camera attachment so that photos can be taken if desired. In order to get good camera focus though, you will need to purchase an adapter and an attachment ring, which I have now done. I am waiting for clear skies again in order to take some photos of the moon. Because this telescope has already provided excellent viewing of the full moon this past week; you can see the craters and the lunar landscape. Very cool! We have also managed to view Jupiter with two of its moons (most likely Ganymedes and Europa), but not with great resolution since this planet is quite far from earth and the moons were really just pricks of light; when the two planets are at their closest point, the distance to Jupiter is 365,000,000 miles. The distance between the moon and earth is 225,623 miles at the moon’s closest approach. My husband, who studied physics before moving into biology, has provided me with the mathematical formula to calculate the angular resolution needed to see the moon. It stands to reason that since the moon is closer to the earth than Jupiter, the resolution is better for the moon than for Jupiter. I will eventually take some photos of both and post them here, so you will see what I mean. I would need a much more powerful telescope to get high-resolution views of Jupiter, and it would cost a small fortune.

Interestingly, but perhaps not unexpectedly, there is suddenly a plethora of programs and news articles about astronomy, the planets and moons, space travel, the current space missions—all of which I find so interesting and timely. Here are some links to some great programs and sites if you are interested in finding out more about the ‘wonders of the universe’:

• Wonders of the Solar System TV series from 2010 with professor Brian Cox: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wonders_of_the_Solar_System   (excellent series—I cannot recommend it highly enough)
• AstroViewer: http://www.astroviewer.com/index.php   
• Universe Today website: http://www.universetoday.com/
•  NASA’s website: http://www.nasa.gov/    (excellent website)
•  SkyWatcher telescopes: http://www.skywatcher.com/products.php?cat=1

How a scientist's worth is measured in academia

I promised myself that I wouldn’t post too many work-related pieces anymore, mostly because there’s so little about modern workplaces these days that is positive in my estimation. Most of the posts would just be depressing. You might think that 'noble' academia would be somewhat better than non-academic workplaces that are simply out to make a profit, but you'd be wrong. After reading this article online yesterday, I simply had to comment on it, as depressing as it is. It is a tragic real-life story of a gifted scientist in England named Stefan Grimm who simply couldn’t take the pressure of the ‘business of science’ anymore and committed suicide (http://www.timeshighereducation.co.uk/news/imperial-college-professor-stefan-grimm-was-given-grant-income-target/2017369.article; http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2861588/Professor-dead-cash-row-Cancer-scientist-said-told-fellow-academics-chiefs-treated-like-s.html). Before he did, he wrote an email to his colleagues telling them about what had happened to him and how his workplace had treated him. This incident took place in England, but I can assure you that the ‘business of science’ in Norway is no different. Universities and research institutes treat their scientists in much the same way; the only difference is that universities here cannot fire their scientists for not hauling in huge amounts of grant money, because scientists are unionized and that affords them some protection. But if they could, universities and research institutes would fire scientists without money because they are a drain on the workplace; it doesn’t matter if they have years of expertise, if they are professors and can teach, or even if they write articles and publish frequently. This country is no different than any other westernized capitalistic country in the world when it comes to worshiping money, even if it likes to think otherwise about itself.

For those of you who romanticize the world of academic scientific research, this article should rid you of any notion that there is anything idealistic or even noble about academic research these days. There isn’t. Firstly, it’s BIG BUSINESS now, and it’s been big business for a while. Money is the operative word. Those who make it to the top and gain power, those who are ‘successful’, are those who drag in hundreds of thousands or even millions of dollars in grant awards. In other words, your funding is ALL that matters; it defines your worth in your workplace—period, and if you don’t get funding, you are worth nothing to your workplace. Even if you got funding five or ten years ago, not one person who sits in a leadership position cares about that or even cares enough to remember that; the ONLY thing that matters is: did you get funding this year, this month, this week? And did you get a lot of funding? What is the innovative potential of your work and can it make us money? Are you patenting your work? Theoretically, I don’t have a problem with the idea that a workplace should benefit financially from the research of its employees if their work leads to a profitable drug or treatment, for example. But it’s gotten way out of hand in reality.

Secondly, there is subtle AGE DISCRIMINATION being practiced. I know scientists who were once productive, with small research groups working on interesting topics, who no longer get research funding. Why does funding suddenly dry up? It’s certainly not a gradual change; rather it is an abrupt one. Why do good scientists who once got decent funding, no longer get any funding whatsoever? One possible reason is that they are now middle-aged (late forties/early fifties for most of us; but in Norway, you are old at 53, and I can find many articles that corroborate this). These middle-aged scientists no longer get any financial support whatsoever, not from external granting agencies nor from their universities or research institutes. They get their salaries and that’s it. It borders on idiocy. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if you don’t get funded, you don’t get students. Without students, you have zero chance of getting substantial research done. Without research data, there are no publications, and without publications, you have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting a grant award. After several years of this vicious circle, management steps in and tells you that it’s your fault you don’t get money, when in reality it’s not. In many cases it is age discrimination, albeit subtle. It could never be overt; think of the lawsuits. You simply reached the magic age at which point you are old and no longer ‘worth funding’. The problem of course is that you cannot retire with a good pension at 53 years of age. So you hang around your workplace hoping your luck will change. Everyone involved knows it won’t. It goes from bad to worse. Years go by with the same results; there are no publications and now management wants to know why there has been no progression in your work. What can you say? It’s merely survival of the fittest; you’ve seen the nature programs where the young males attack the old ones for control of the tribe or the harems. The same occurs in academia; once you’re labeled as old, you’re finished. You are punished for growing old.

Thirdly, if you are not designated as the absolute BEST OF THE BEST, CREAM OF THE CROP, you are finished in research these days before you even get started. Academic research science is beyond elitist at this point; it’s more like trying to make it through the proverbial eye of the needle. Almost no one manages that. Young people do their PhDs and then move on to something else; few to none are offered a post-doc position in any given research organization (http://www.theguardian.com/higher-education-network/blog/2014/may/23/so-many-phd-students-so-few-jobs). One or two may end up as the 'chosen ones', the ones that management deems worthy enough to bet on. The reason given is that they are the brightest of the bunch, but often it’s nepotism in action—those that move upward are often simply those who are management’s favorites. They are the ones who are granted the academic career opportunities. They join the networks that management has laid out for them; all involved know that this is the key to gaining grant funding, since colleagues in those networks often work in positions that have enough clout to ensure that those networks get funding. They may not review the actual grant applications, but they have a say in the final prioritization of grant applications that have been recommended for funding by external reviewers. 

  

Finally, many universities now take on far too many PhD students, knowing full well that there are no careers for them in academic science, and knowing full well that they cannot offer them any sort of job future. It’s irresponsible behavior. But there’s money involved, so that makes it ok in the eyes of the universities. PhD students come with a specific sum of money for consumables and small expenses, and additionally, if you are the primary adviser, you get a tidy sum of money for having been an adviser, once the student is finished. Additionally, more students means more hands in the lab to do the research work. Who is going to turn that down? And who is going to be honest enough about the lack of academic career opportunities to tell potential PhD students to consider another profession because there are no jobs for them once they're finished? I do it as a senior researcher, but very few others do. I've said it before but it bears repeating; there are better, healthier and yes, nobler ways of earning a living and making yourself useful to society. Find them. 

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P.S. This is the email that Stefan Grimm wrote to his colleagues before he committed suicide, including the link to the article that published it. 

http://www.dcscience.net/2014/12/01/publish-and-perish-at-imperial-college-london-the-death-of-stefan-grimm/

Begin forwarded message:

From: Stefan Grimm <professorstefangrimm@gmail.com>

Date: 21 October 2014 23:41:03 BST

To:

Subject: How Professors are treated at Imperial College

Dear all,

If anyone is interested how Professors are treated at Imperial College: Here is my story.

On May 30th ’13 my boss, Prof Martin Wilkins, came into my office together with his PA and ask me what grants I had. After I enumerated them I was told that this was not enough and that I had to leave the College within one year – “max” as he said. He made it clear that he was acting on behalf of Prof Gavin Screaton, the then head of the Department of Medicine, and told me that I would have a meeting with him soon to be sacked. Without any further comment he left my office. It was only then that I realized that he did not even have the courtesy to close the door of my office when he delivered this message. When I turned around the corner I saw a student who seems to have overheard the conversation looking at me in utter horror.

Prof Wilkins had nothing better to do than immediately inform my colleagues in the Section that he had just sacked me.

Why does a Professor have to be treated like that?

All my grant writing stopped afterwards, as I was waiting for the meeting to get sacked by Prof Screaton. This meeting, however, never took place.

In March ’14 I then received the ultimatum email below. 200,000 pounds research income every year is required. Very interesting. I was never informed about this before and cannot remember that this is part of my contract with the College. Especially interesting is the fact that the required 200,000.- pounds could potentially also be covered by smaller grants but in my case a programme grant was expected.

Our 135,000.- pounds from the University of Dammam? Doesn’t count. I have to say that it was a lovely situation to submit grant applications for your own survival with such a deadline. We all know what a lottery grant applications are.

There was talk that the Department had accepted to be in dept for some time and would compensate this through more teaching. So I thought that I would survive. But the email below indicates otherwise. I got this after the student for whom I “have plans” received the official admission to the College as a PhD student. He waited so long to work in our group and I will never be able to tell him that this should now not happen. What these guys don’t know is that they destroy lives. Well, they certainly destroyed mine.

The reality is that these career scientists up in the hierarchy of this organization only look at figures to judge their colleagues, be it impact factors or grant income. After all, how can you convince your Department head that you are working on something exciting if he not even attends the regular Departmental seminars? The aim is only to keep up the finances of their Departments for their own career advancement.

These formidable leaders are playing an interesting game: They hire scientists from other countries to submit the work that they did abroad under completely different conditions for the Research Assessment that is supposed to gauge the performance of British universities. Afterwards they leave them alone to either perform with grants or being kicked out. Even if your work is submitted to this Research Assessment and brings in money for the university, you are targeted if your grant income is deemed insufficient. Those submitted to the research assessment hence support those colleagues who are unproductive but have grants. Grant income is all that counts here, not scientific output.

We had four papers with original data this year so far, in Cell Death and Differentiation, Oncogene, Journal of Cell Science and, as I informed Prof Wilkins this week, one accepted with the EMBO Journal. I was also the editor of a book and wrote two reviews. Doesn’t count.

This leads to a interesting spin to the old saying “publish or perish”. Here it is “publish and perish”.

Did I regret coming to this place? I enormously enjoyed interacting with my science colleagues here, but like many of them, I fell into the trap of confusing the reputation of science here with the present reality. This is not a university anymore but a business with very few up in the hierarchy, like our formidable duo, profiteering and the rest of us are milked for money, be it professors for their grant income or students who pay 100.- pounds just to extend their write-up status.

If anyone believes that I feel what my excellent coworkers and I have accomplished here over the years is inferior to other work, is wrong. With our apoptosis genes and the concept of Anticancer Genes we have developed something that is probably much more exciting than most other projects, including those that are heavily supported by grants.

Was I perhaps too lazy? My boss smugly told me that I was actually the one professor on the whole campus who had submitted the highest number of grant applications. Well, they were probably simply not good enough.

I am by far not the only one who is targeted by those formidable guys. These colleagues only keep quiet out of shame about their situation. Which is wrong. As we all know hitting the sweet spot in bioscience is simply a matter of luck, both for grant applications and publications.

Why does a Professor have to be treated like that?

One of my colleagues here at the College whom I told my story looked at me, there was a silence, and then said: “Yes, they treat us like sh*t”.

Best regards,

Stefan Grimm