What I won't miss about working in academic research science

I recently published a post 'What I will miss about working as an academic research scientist' (A New Yorker in Oslo: What I will miss about working as an academic research scientist (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com). There are some things that I won’t miss about academic research, and now I can write about them. As long as I did academic research I never felt I had the freedom to really write the truth about this arena, at least the arena I've experienced here in Norway.

I won't miss the arrogance and elitism that exist in the academic workplace. Too many research leaders (mostly men but also one or two women) used their leadership positions to disparage other researchers (including PhD students and postdocs who worked for them and for whom they developed a dislike) in an effort to make themselves look much better than they actually were. Several actually thought they were extraordinary researchers, and they were not. Truth be told, they were and are middle-of-the-road researchers with grant funding and a few good papers under their belts, nothing more. They were preoccupied with prestige, power, control, and money. If they had all these things they were automatically better than the others who didn't have these things, and that viewpoint was supported all the way to the top of university hospital leadership. This is probably not ground-breaking news to those who've worked in academia for years. My point in commenting on it is the following: how research leadership behaves and what they allow in terms of bad or questionable behavior sets the tone for the workplace--pleasant and productive, or unpleasant and ultimately unproductive (or unwillingly productive). You cannot have it both ways. Arrogance and elitism do not lead to healthy research production. They lead to demotivation and inertia in those who have to suffer with them; the ones who often suffer most are the scientists in untenured positions. Arrogance and elitism were allowed (or at least not discouraged) in my former workplace, to the detriment of the careers of many younger scientists and colleagues. I know that because the latter often came to my office over the years to get support and to share their feelings of despair and demotivation. Most of them left academia when they were still young enough to start over somewhere else, usually in the private sector where they ended up not only feeling more at home but where they were able to create successful careers. 

I won't miss the conformity/lack of intellectual diversity that characterize a lot of academic workplaces. I could list up several areas, among them immunotherapy, that would guaranteed get you a lot of grant funding, but at what cost? It stands to reason that not everyone can work in this field, and why would they want to? Researchers are at heart an independent bunch; they like to have the intellectual freedom to study what they want (within the guidelines of their institutions, of course). But it is that intellectual freedom that is important, or at least was important. Nowadays you are likely to be told by research leadership that your area of interest is not worth pursuing; you should pursue an area that will net you the most money. I have no problems with their advice or suggestions, but it is very unrealistic to expect that all medical research scientists would want to work in the field of immunotherapy. You don't just snap your fingers and poof--now I know all there is to know about immunotherapy and patient treatment when for years your research interests tended toward basic science (non-patient-related) questions. Conformity and intellectual freedom are a poor match. But since conformity leads to money, and academic research is now big business, it stands to reason that conformity rules. Some of the scientists I most enjoyed talking to and collaborating with were non-conformists (like me) who believed in what they were doing and struggled along. It must be said that up until around 2006, it was still possible to get a basic research project funded. Nowadays it is a rare occurrence.

I won't miss the frequent lack of interest in informing employees of what was going on in the department, in dealing with pressing problems, or in the research that employees were doing. One leader had the habit of shrugging his shoulders whenever problems that needed to be addressed and discussed were brought up. They weren't his problem. 'I really don't care, do you?' That type of attitude, which essentially says to others--F*** off and don't bother me. Even those leaders who did listen did very little about the problems at hand. And just to be clear, there is a big difference between running to a leader with every minute problem versus talking to them about one or two select issues. Very few people did the former. It wouldn't have mattered one way or another; the response would have been the same--lack of interest. It was demoralizing, because nothing ever gets solved with that attitude. 

I won't miss the indecisiveness, procrastination, non-committal leadership, and inertia of academia, the countless meetings about the same problem or issue that could have been solved with clear-cut decisions but rarely were. Some leaders were deathly afraid of making a decision that could turn out down the road to be a mistake, so they didn't make any decisions at all. Fear leads to indecisiveness and procrastination. Indecisiveness and procrastination help no one, and simply contribute to the inertia that a workplace becomes mired in over time. My motto was 'Just do it' (to paraphrase Nike). That doesn't mean that I was impulsive or proactive without good and well-researched reasons for acting. It means that I was ready and able to make a decision and to stick to it after I reviewed the facts. I was not afraid to be wrong, because if your decision proves to be the wrong one you admit that and move on. But if you remain non-committal you won't (ever) make a mistake. But you won't take a risk either, and that is necessary in order for an institution to move forward. For all the incessant talking about change and the necessity for it, there was very little actual change. I discovered that most people simply liked to talk rather than act. That wasn't me. Perhaps I too would have found a better fit in the private sector. 

And finally, I won't miss feeling old. I’m three weeks into retirement and I don’t feel old anymore. The last few years in academia made me feel old—no longer professionally relevant, no longer competitive, no longer in the game. I’ve written about the reasons why in my ‘Publish or languish’ post (A New Yorker in Oslo: Publish or languish (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com). If you don’t get grant funding, you’re just ‘hanging on in quiet desperation’ until retirement. Some hang on until they’re sixty-seven; others until they’re seventy-two. I was simply not interested in doing either. I retired early. Older scientists are not really respected anymore (if they ever were). I don't know if my viewpoints can be extrapolated to other countries, but I'm guessing that they can (if the limited Netflix series The Chair gives a good indication of what goes on at top universities in the USA these days). In that series, the leadership of the English literature department wants to get rid of its older professors. It doesn’t prove to be an easy task, but it must be rather dismaying to know that your workplace would prefer that you retire or quit. But that’s all part of the game; best not to take it too seriously. Best to leave when the going is good, when you still have your health, when life is still an adventure. Because life is an adventure, and work is not the only thing in life that defines us. The fun part will be discovering and rediscovering the parts of us that have been hidden all these years. I’m looking forward to that.

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.

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. 

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. 

Back to the grind

And so it’s back to the grind after five weeks of summer vacation. Back to work after the wonderful freedom of not working. When I was a child in grammar school, I couldn’t wait for summer vacation to be over so that I could go back to school. It’s not that I didn’t like having the time off, it’s just that at some point it felt good to think about preparing for school again. When we were children, our job was to go to school and that was fine with me. I never experienced school as prison, like many of my fellow students. I felt pretty much the same way about high school and college; I enjoyed school and learning and felt privileged to be able to go to school. By the time I got to graduate school however, I was tired of rote education and felt the need to get out and work, to apply what I’d learned. I’ve been in the workforce for nearly forty years now, and most of those years have been interesting, motivating and productive. Motivation has dwindled however in the last five years or so, not because I lost interest in my research work, but because the research system changed into something I no longer recognized, with its emphasis on selling yourself, hyping your ideas, hiring and promoting extroverts, and networking ad nauseam. Since I am not an extrovert, and since I don’t feel comfortable around braggarts or bragging about my own work, I’ve pulled back and become an observer of what goes on around me. It’s been interesting to observe the rise and fall of the show-boaters. I suppose the pendulum will eventually swing back toward the middle, where it will be ok again to do your research work quietly, efficiently and well. I long for those days to return, but I doubt that they will before I retire. And that’s quite ok too. I’ve had a good run and it’s time for the younger scientists to take over. I have accepted this, but it’s actually interesting and somewhat humorous to see that others haven’t accepted this—I am still mentoring students, still running into the lab to answer questions, find something in the refrigerator, check out a lab procedure, and so forth. I no longer have funding for lab consumables, so I make do by utilizing antibodies and tissue sections that were bought and prepared several years ago. Who knew that I would be able to see into the future then and prepare for the drought? I was smart enough to prepare and it has paid off somewhat in the sense that I am not completely bereft of lab consumables. I just cannot purchase new ones, and the likelihood of getting funded at this point in time is slim. But as people say to me, ‘never say never’, even though deep down I hold out little hope of further funding.

So I look forward to retiring and only wish I could do so now instead of having to wait another three years. Three more years of grant application rejections, three more years of research article rejections, three more years of remaining patient in the face of a stupid uncaring system. Three more years of futile salary discussions in a system that has no budget to give its employees a lift (because most of the money is being used to pay the exorbitant salaries of the leaders who abound about us like rabbits). They multiply three-fold each year. We’re up to six levels of leadership now and I don’t have a clue as to what any of them do each day. Three more years of braggarts, of researchers with huge amounts of funding who don’t have a clue as to how the other half lives. I tell people the truth—I have no funding, zero, zip, nada. That’s how it goes, and I’m fine with it. I only wish I could exit stage left now.  

Soul-sucking exercise in futility

After a wonderful and relaxing summer, I was actually ready to go back to work. I cannot honestly say I was looking forward to the daily grind again, but my mood was positive and upbeat. You might even say I was motivated to start a new academic year. Unfortunately, those feelings never last. They are replaced by ennui, resignation and boredom once the grant application season starts or once we start to get replies from the grant organizations to which we applied before the summer months. You would think that after so many years in the business that rejection gets easier to take. It doesn’t, at least not initially. By the end of the day however, I have recovered from it, compared to perhaps several days some years ago when I actually cared more.

I did not spend much time on grant applications this year, since I and my colleagues agreed that we would spend the next year working diligently on new projects and generating data so that we could use that data in next year’s applications. Applying for grant funding at present is a soul-sucking exercise in futility. The funding situation is so brutally competitive that it makes no sense to waste precious time on writing and sending an application with preliminary data; it will not get funded, period. You need to be an established researcher in your field, and it gets harder and harder to remain in that field if you don't get funding. I sent only one grant application to a private foundation that has supported us previously with funds for a PhD position. I was hoping to get funding; I asked for about 180,000 USD to cover a two-year technical position plus costs for lab consumables and overhead. After all, the foundation knows that we can deliver the goods—their support of my PhD student was money well-spent since it led to a successful PhD defense back in 2010. However…….

The foundation’s board members were not entirely negative to my application for a technician. They agreed to give our institute one-third of the amount I applied for, with the stipulation that I come up with the remaining two-thirds. In other words, I cannot accept their 33.3 % funding unless I can guarantee them that I will obtain the remaining 66.6% from other sources. I have to find someone willing to support us with 120,000 USD or I cannot receive the 60,000 USD they are offering. It’s laughable if it didn’t make you want to cry first. The reason I am applying to this foundation is because all other sources of funding have dried up at this point. I have a snowball’s chance in hell of raising 120,000 USD. So it doesn’t look like our group is getting a research technician any time soon, which is unfortunate because a full-time technician is exactly what we need.

I will allow for the possibility that the foundation doesn’t really understand the brutality of the funding situation. But hopes get raised and dreams get smashed each year, and for each year that passes, I see less and less point in the whole process. I struggle to find meaning in such a soulless and brutal profession. Any wonder that I prefer to be alone in my garden these days, with no interference or constant rejection to deal with? I understand the laws of nature and manage to work with them--a peaceful co-existence. Sometimes things grow and sometimes they don't. Sometimes the slugs win and sometimes they don't. But there is at least some reward for the hard work. In academia, there is none.

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