The truly terrifying thing about science is you NEVER know when your research will discover something NEW. I just watched my son labor hard for 5 tough years in his biomedical science PhD program. It wasn't until year 4.5 that he had the breakthrough that won him a Nature first author publication and his degree. The only sure way to publish a lot is to just nibble around the edges of the known (yawn). Science is a very tough career, even without all the academic politics you write about so well.
As to worrying about not publishing often enough here on Substack, unless you have paid subscribers, I think it's best to write purely when you're inspired to do so. Go with the flow!
This post reminds me of Sinclair Lewis's "Arrowsmith," one of the only American novels that I know of to dramatize the scientific method. It's a ridiculous book in some ways, but the science feels true, although it intersects with a kind of masculine ideal, as well, of risk taking and superhuman effort in the lab. Maybe not worth reading in full, but it's a literary reference point for your essay.
As a former material scientist, that too working in a large research group (and lab) that emphasized experimental work, nearly all the work we did, often negative findings, still resulted in publications. Was everything earth-shattering? Absolutely not. However all met the core premise of
1. a hypothesis, such as adding Ceria to Aluminosilicates will increase their toughness (that's a good thing, if true)
2. experiment, can we validate the hypothesis and if so over what space/range of compositions
3. observations & insights -> real progress or newer hypothesis that might asymptotically lead us there (if not Ceria, does Stronia do it? why or why not? If Ceria does, why does it do it? What microstructures lead to what physical/mechnical properties? (new hypothesis - if so can such microstructures work with other matrixes with other dispersions)
Interestingly depending on the research lead and their motivations (like you I too for lucky to work with one of the most successful and well connected electron microscopists of that era) these experiments needed a breadth of experts (the chemical folks to make the composites, the mech folks to measure their properties, the characterization folks (us) who could decipher the underlying microstructures and of course the theoriticians who would hypothesize before and/or after to explain what we learnt - rinse and repeat. Of course we had our share of huge failures as we tried to find those elusive superconductors, metallic liquids that were useful and ceramic composites that would behave metallic. A long winded way of saying in specific (particularly experimental niches) the effort and outcomes seemed easier to demonstrate even if they didn't deliver the silver bullet we sought.
In contrast I know theoretical material scientists did not have it anywhere as easy and as some of the other commenters have noted humanities lies at the far reaches of this. Though I suspect a lot of science makes no sense to anyone outside academic or the research niche, unlike a lot of humanities seems far more accessible to the lay public, as long as we don't let the darn social scientists use their jargon but speak in plain English (John Green and Salman Khan have helped hugely!)
oops, longer than I intended to be. Hopefully it makes sense.
It totally makes sense! In fact, I remember discussing your first point with ecologist friends, who really did publish whatever they discovered. In molecular biologist, it can be so much harder to produce something worth studying because so much of the work is making tools, which may or may not work properly.
[armchair quarterback warning] I'm sure tool building has its share of best practices (avoided?) and meta level learning of what approaches work. This also brings to mind what I teach students that much innovation happens at the intersection of things—be it industries, customers or problems. So as molecular biologists how do we know we aren't solving a (tool) problem solved elsewhere for robotics or warehouse or bus scheduling?
I hear you! But in my field a great deal is simply not predicable. For example, you might want to study a protein by expressing it in another cell (lots of reasons to do this). We expressed plant proteins in frog oocytes in order to study them by patch clamp electrophysiology. But you can’t know in advance if a protein will behave itself (fold properly, go to the right part of the cell, be stable) in another cell without trying. And if you try and it doesn’t behave, there’s nothing to report or share or show. All you know is that it didn’t work. So the tool (the cell expressing a new protein) can’t be made and you are at square one. There certainly are ways to mitigate the risk here—try different proteins, try different cells, but for a lot of applications there is only one combination that is helpful (For example, our case with plant ion channels in oocytes).
Not sure it is, except the research is usually less regarded by pretty much anyone. But I imagine at my level (the adjunct level, which is most of us), it’s probably pretty much the same. And the humanities are being cut right and left, as being not essential. Sciences tend to be the last to be cut.
As someone who have never worked in the sciences, I was fascinated by your peek behind the curtain of how scientists determine the projects and questions they're going to pursue. And as a former humanities academic myself, I wonder whether this is something that turned me away. Because this ultimately isn't just about whether you explore what you want to or are strategic and seek your research subject because of it's potential professional payoff. It's about what motivates you; it's about what makes you want to do this work in the first place: for love, for acclaim, for recognition in the field, for pure curiosity's sake, because the research personally touches you or someone in your life, etc., etc. And I wonder how many people eventually out of research not because they haven't the mind or motivation but because of what gets rewarded.
That is an interesting observation. I’ve been thinking a lot about the advantages and the drawbacks of this kind of individualized science. Working in a team, for the good of society (like NASA getting to the moon, or the way everyone seems to have collaborated on the initial COVID vaccine) would relieve so many of these individualized challenges—the risk taken on by the community rather than the individual. But the motivation has to be communal as well, and I wonder how that would work.
Hi Liz! I've been thinking about this topic lately. In academia I felt fairly risk averse. For example, as a PhD in your lab I didn't want to be one of the people pioneering how to use affinity labeling like BioID in plants. If I'd done so maybe my work would have been more widely recognized, but it seemed too risky at the time. What has surprised me recently is that in industry (at small ag-biotech startup), we are doing riskier projects than I ever would have been comfortable with in academia. I guess I thought that at a small company we'd be only doing the safest, most likely to succeed things. But we're thinking about a few high-risk high-reward projects. And I'm totally game! Without the pressure to publish, I'm absolutely willing and excited to try. I do think that a need to publish (which is the only currency you have of success in academia) really scares people away from the most exciting research questions, at least in our field.
Hi Jenny! What you say above makes a lot of sense. I’ve been thinking about how the focus on publications skews things, including our tolerance for risky projects. I also think there are ways we could change our mindset so that the focus is more on moving the field forward as a community rather than as individuals (since that’s not really how it happens anyway!). I’ll be watching to see what new things come out of your new position! 💚
And let’s not discount the role of funding systems… I get the impression that this varies a lot by funding agency and country, but I personally have found much of the trajectory of my research has been driven by what funders have been willing to fund, which doesn’t often align with what I think are the most interesting (and risky) big questions.
The truly terrifying thing about science is you NEVER know when your research will discover something NEW. I just watched my son labor hard for 5 tough years in his biomedical science PhD program. It wasn't until year 4.5 that he had the breakthrough that won him a Nature first author publication and his degree. The only sure way to publish a lot is to just nibble around the edges of the known (yawn). Science is a very tough career, even without all the academic politics you write about so well.
As to worrying about not publishing often enough here on Substack, unless you have paid subscribers, I think it's best to write purely when you're inspired to do so. Go with the flow!
Baird
You are exactly right. Congratulations to your son—and I hope he found the experience exhilarating instead of demoralizing!
"Congratulations to your son—and I hope he found the experience exhilarating instead of demoralizing!"
Thanks Liz. Equal parts of both with a definite trend toward exhilaration over time!
This post reminds me of Sinclair Lewis's "Arrowsmith," one of the only American novels that I know of to dramatize the scientific method. It's a ridiculous book in some ways, but the science feels true, although it intersects with a kind of masculine ideal, as well, of risk taking and superhuman effort in the lab. Maybe not worth reading in full, but it's a literary reference point for your essay.
Thanks for the literary connection! I’ve never read Arrowsmith, might be time to do so!
As a former material scientist, that too working in a large research group (and lab) that emphasized experimental work, nearly all the work we did, often negative findings, still resulted in publications. Was everything earth-shattering? Absolutely not. However all met the core premise of
1. a hypothesis, such as adding Ceria to Aluminosilicates will increase their toughness (that's a good thing, if true)
2. experiment, can we validate the hypothesis and if so over what space/range of compositions
3. observations & insights -> real progress or newer hypothesis that might asymptotically lead us there (if not Ceria, does Stronia do it? why or why not? If Ceria does, why does it do it? What microstructures lead to what physical/mechnical properties? (new hypothesis - if so can such microstructures work with other matrixes with other dispersions)
Interestingly depending on the research lead and their motivations (like you I too for lucky to work with one of the most successful and well connected electron microscopists of that era) these experiments needed a breadth of experts (the chemical folks to make the composites, the mech folks to measure their properties, the characterization folks (us) who could decipher the underlying microstructures and of course the theoriticians who would hypothesize before and/or after to explain what we learnt - rinse and repeat. Of course we had our share of huge failures as we tried to find those elusive superconductors, metallic liquids that were useful and ceramic composites that would behave metallic. A long winded way of saying in specific (particularly experimental niches) the effort and outcomes seemed easier to demonstrate even if they didn't deliver the silver bullet we sought.
In contrast I know theoretical material scientists did not have it anywhere as easy and as some of the other commenters have noted humanities lies at the far reaches of this. Though I suspect a lot of science makes no sense to anyone outside academic or the research niche, unlike a lot of humanities seems far more accessible to the lay public, as long as we don't let the darn social scientists use their jargon but speak in plain English (John Green and Salman Khan have helped hugely!)
oops, longer than I intended to be. Hopefully it makes sense.
It totally makes sense! In fact, I remember discussing your first point with ecologist friends, who really did publish whatever they discovered. In molecular biologist, it can be so much harder to produce something worth studying because so much of the work is making tools, which may or may not work properly.
[armchair quarterback warning] I'm sure tool building has its share of best practices (avoided?) and meta level learning of what approaches work. This also brings to mind what I teach students that much innovation happens at the intersection of things—be it industries, customers or problems. So as molecular biologists how do we know we aren't solving a (tool) problem solved elsewhere for robotics or warehouse or bus scheduling?
I hear you! But in my field a great deal is simply not predicable. For example, you might want to study a protein by expressing it in another cell (lots of reasons to do this). We expressed plant proteins in frog oocytes in order to study them by patch clamp electrophysiology. But you can’t know in advance if a protein will behave itself (fold properly, go to the right part of the cell, be stable) in another cell without trying. And if you try and it doesn’t behave, there’s nothing to report or share or show. All you know is that it didn’t work. So the tool (the cell expressing a new protein) can’t be made and you are at square one. There certainly are ways to mitigate the risk here—try different proteins, try different cells, but for a lot of applications there is only one combination that is helpful (For example, our case with plant ion channels in oocytes).
*predictable
As an academic in the humanities, *most* of my work is invisible. 🫥
How do you see this as different from the sciences?
Not sure it is, except the research is usually less regarded by pretty much anyone. But I imagine at my level (the adjunct level, which is most of us), it’s probably pretty much the same. And the humanities are being cut right and left, as being not essential. Sciences tend to be the last to be cut.
I hear you.
As someone who have never worked in the sciences, I was fascinated by your peek behind the curtain of how scientists determine the projects and questions they're going to pursue. And as a former humanities academic myself, I wonder whether this is something that turned me away. Because this ultimately isn't just about whether you explore what you want to or are strategic and seek your research subject because of it's potential professional payoff. It's about what motivates you; it's about what makes you want to do this work in the first place: for love, for acclaim, for recognition in the field, for pure curiosity's sake, because the research personally touches you or someone in your life, etc., etc. And I wonder how many people eventually out of research not because they haven't the mind or motivation but because of what gets rewarded.
That is an interesting observation. I’ve been thinking a lot about the advantages and the drawbacks of this kind of individualized science. Working in a team, for the good of society (like NASA getting to the moon, or the way everyone seems to have collaborated on the initial COVID vaccine) would relieve so many of these individualized challenges—the risk taken on by the community rather than the individual. But the motivation has to be communal as well, and I wonder how that would work.
Also, the title of your post is "magnifique"!
😂
Hi Liz! I've been thinking about this topic lately. In academia I felt fairly risk averse. For example, as a PhD in your lab I didn't want to be one of the people pioneering how to use affinity labeling like BioID in plants. If I'd done so maybe my work would have been more widely recognized, but it seemed too risky at the time. What has surprised me recently is that in industry (at small ag-biotech startup), we are doing riskier projects than I ever would have been comfortable with in academia. I guess I thought that at a small company we'd be only doing the safest, most likely to succeed things. But we're thinking about a few high-risk high-reward projects. And I'm totally game! Without the pressure to publish, I'm absolutely willing and excited to try. I do think that a need to publish (which is the only currency you have of success in academia) really scares people away from the most exciting research questions, at least in our field.
Hi Jenny! What you say above makes a lot of sense. I’ve been thinking about how the focus on publications skews things, including our tolerance for risky projects. I also think there are ways we could change our mindset so that the focus is more on moving the field forward as a community rather than as individuals (since that’s not really how it happens anyway!). I’ll be watching to see what new things come out of your new position! 💚
And let’s not discount the role of funding systems… I get the impression that this varies a lot by funding agency and country, but I personally have found much of the trajectory of my research has been driven by what funders have been willing to fund, which doesn’t often align with what I think are the most interesting (and risky) big questions.
Absolutely