Happy July 4th

'To know the earth as poetry'

This resonated with me, and I wanted to share it with you. This is mostly how I feel these days. There is a time for everything under the heavens. I'm hoping that the intense pressure to achieve, compete, win, and work till you drop will lessen, and that the stress associated with all of these things will disappear. I've had a lifetime of these things, and I no longer want them. I want quiet, peace, calm and relaxation for the foreseeable future. Maybe in a few years I'll want to rejoin the fray in one form or another. But right now, I want to leave the fray behind. 

Dealing with weariness of soul

 It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit. --Robert Louis Stevenson

I never weary of great churches. It is my favorite kind of mountain scenery. Mankind was never so happily inspired as when it made a cathedral. --Robert Louis Stevenson

Let no one be slow to seek wisdom when he is young nor weary in the search of it when he has grown old. For no age is too early or too late for the health of the soul. --Epicurus

O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world! --William Shakespeare

Christian, learn from Christ how you ought to love Christ. Learn a love that is tender, wise, strong; love with tenderness, not passion, wisdom, not foolishness, and strength, lest you become weary and turn away from the love of the Lord. --Saint Bernard

The world is weary of statesmen whom democracy has degraded into politicians. --Benjamin Disraeli

People have become so weary of all the government and media dishonesty, the all-too-commonplace lying, that most Americans have stopped listening. --Wayne LaPierre

I always have doubts. I am weary of people. --Bae Suzy

Men weary as much of not doing the things they want to do as of doing the things they do not want to do. --Eric Hoffer

I've shot a lot of pilots that have never seen the light of day, jobs that have fallen apart or gotten canceled, so I'm really weary about what contracts I sign and where I swear my loyalty to. --D. J. Cotrona

I'm very conscious and weary of the hype economy and the way people build things up just to tear them down. --Hari Nef

Some of our life experience makes us weary of love and make it difficult to forgive others. Parvathy

Leaving behind the big business and bureaucracy of academic science

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

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

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

Reflections on retirement and the pandemic

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

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

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

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