My big eye-openers (some from postdoc) were more about the sociology of science than the day-to-day productivity:
- Even the most blatantly wrong and illogical published work can only be displaced by another publication that explains/does the same phenomenon better; i.e., people are going to keep believing in phlogiston until someone shows them oxygen. If you simply point out inconsistencies in phlogiston theory, in person or in writing, they may well make a variety of unwanted psychological deductions about you.
- Similarly, nobody actually enjoys being around critics or enduring criticism, and therefore you will observe many senior scientists partially avoiding the major downsides of being a critic by artfully concealing criticisms inside what sounds to the uninitiated like mutual affirmation sessions. You have to listen very closely and learn the lingo to pick this up.
- Never question a scientific superior (other than maybe a direct mentor or very close colleague) with any other approach besides "I have a helpful suggestion about how you can maybe reach your intended destination better/faster/more precisely". Regardless of where that destination might be, such as off a cliff or into a wall.
- The opinion/fact ratio you are allowed to have as a scientist is directly and very strongly correlated with seniority, H-index, and so on.
- The incentive structure of scientific publication is such that there are big rewards for being right on an important question, bigger the earlier you are to the party, and little to no penalties for being wrong, so long as the error cannot be provably and directly linked to fraud. There are a variety of interesting consequences to this incentive structure.
In addition to ringing true, this seems largely in line with Thomas Kuhn's thesis in his Structure of Scientific Revolutions [0], a book which despite its shortcomings, should be required reading for anyone in a STEM field.
Kuhn's thesis doesn't have a lot space for the sociology of science to have this kind of influence. Of the classical theses of scientific progress, this comes closer to Lakatos' thesis of research programs.[0][1]
[1] Lakatos, Imre. (1978) The Methodology of Scientific Research Programmes: Philosophical Papers (J. Worrall & G. Currie, Eds.). Cambridge University Press.
> The incentive structure of scientific publication is such that there are big rewards for being right on an important question, bigger the earlier you are to the party, and little to no penalties for being wrong, so long as the error cannot be provably and directly linked to fraud.
This is fantastic insight and I'd like to thank you for sharing it with our group.
Would you agree that the model of rewards for correctness and penalization only in the case of fraud is the core feature of science? And what separates it from business or politics where being an honest failure is worse than being dishonest but successful?
Again, this is a great post, and I think you have a fantastic future in the sociology of science!
I think science is too big a thing to have a small set of "core features", and the question of how to usefully define "honesty" in a scientific context is another big topic, but reading about "bullshit" (the term of art that has its own literature, not the colloquialism) is a good place to start thinking about it.
I would suggest that fraud is one of the rarest types of dishonesty, because people who are both smart and dishonest have less risky ways to proceed, and that such people are very glad fraud exists, because it misdirects attention away from their arguably more damaging and prevalent methods. Feynman has a passage about how honesty in science is more a state of mind, which I agree with. But really, the techniques to be dishonest with low risk are the same in science, journalism, politics, and business.
My field isn't sociology of science though; these are just views from the genomics trenches.
Very early on, I noticed that graduate students tend to be idealistic, postdocs extremely cynical, and faculty ruthlessly pragmatic perhaps to the point of occasional shortsightedness. Clearly, something about this progression is expected and normal. I'm a postdoc now, so I'm right on schedule.
I think the way it ultimately works is that you have to be disillusioned from the grade-school fairy tales told to the public about how science works before you can learn to live and work in the environment that actually exists rather than the one you wish existed.
> "Never question a scientific superior?" Not parsing that concept, please elaborate.
tech < grad student < postdoc < junior faculty < full prof < Big Guy/Gal < Nobel Laureate < NIH Director
People above you in that chain will accept limited feedback on methods to attain their chosen goals and will greatly resent questions about whether their selected goals are worthwhile/realistic/rational, or whether their gestalt vision of the field's conventional wisdom is correct.
I agree with most of the GP's points and I don't think of them as defeatist, but rather a call for realism when dealing with people (versus data, which have no ego to bruise). It's very hard to devise a system that rewards individual achievement without ever falling prey to classic human flaws. The good news is that science over time tends to be self-correcting, and all that requires is a commitment to shared principles and methods, combined with enough anarchy that no one individual can screw up an entire field (Trofim Lysenko being the most extreme example, but any bureaucracy can accomplish this).
The presentation is cynical, as xab31 themself attests, but I don't think it's defeatist.
1. Bad work only being displaced by good work: everything works like this. To replace some useless commercial product (take your pick) someone has to come up with something better. Same goes for information.
2. Nobody liking criticism can be rephrased as it being important to attack ideas, not people, when you have to work with those people.
3. "Never question a scientific superior" is the first piece of advise I think is too cynical. As a warning against undermining a colleague in public when you need their support, I agree, and that's kind of a restatement of #1 and #2. But science really does have a culture of publicly debating contentious ideas. You can definitely be more critical in an event specifically held as a debate / open forum than in a presentation Q&A though, and at a social event it's polite to be at least vaguely supportive.
Kind of a tangent to the later points: Day to day scientific research is mostly chasing dead ends and other activity that is (in hindsight) mostly useless, but there is genuine societal value in having a large body of skilled workers available. That is, science spends a lot of time spinning its wheels trying to figure out the right question to ask, and once this becomes clear there is rapid progress. This means the papers published in between the breakthrough periods aren't really worth paying attention to unless you work in that area. Having a lot of scientists and engineers in the workforce so we collectively have a decent chance at obtaining and exploiting next breakthrough is the point, the papers are just a byproduct.
>"Never question a scientific superior?" Not parsing that concept, please elaborate.
If you think you've been put on a bum topic or your supervisor has put you on the scientific equivalent of a PIP with no way up or out your room for maneuvering is limited, to put it politely.
I understand the impulse to not want to be defeatist, but sometimes it’s both easier and more productive to stop running into the same walls over and over and instead find the path around them.
Well, as defeatist as going to work fo a FAANG and not expecting that your managers will give a toss about fairness, their users privacy, or the spirit of regulations. Life is like this. Right now in the African Savannah a lion is mauling a gazelle, it happens daily.
This is true here, as well. I once asked about something related to SSL/TLS (fairly politely) and was kind of mockingly escorted by some groupies to the corner since I apparently responded to an Apache developer.
I was just trying to learn. Learning bad is what I learned.
The sociology of science is so interesting. (Not the field, but the subject.) Here are some of my favorites quotes/thoughts:
This one is a direct contrast to your advice (which speaks volumes about what's wrong with academia): "A good scientist, in other words, does not merely ignore conventional wisdom, but makes a special effort to break it. Scientists go looking for trouble."[0]
This was written about physics at Caltech, but applies more broadly. It explains why the ability to 'manage up' is so critical for early-career success. "[...] departments are run, for better and worse, by the professors who often lack managerial experience. Worse, they are generally unaware of this shortcoming, assuming incorrectly that management is trivially easy compared to their topics of study and merits minimal effort. We have now seen the consequences of this lack of attention." [1]
Academic politics is a great reason not to stay in academia: "Look for environments where competitors see themselves as playing a game, rather than fighting for survival — this prevents rankings within the hierarchy from becoming an existential problem." [2]
This book has a great chapter of career advice, here's a gem: "Don't build a pyramid. Everyone seems to build one pyramid per career. A pyramid is an ambitious system that one person really cares about and that winds up working well, but then just sits in the desert because nobody else cares the same way. This happens usually just after leaving graduate school." [3]
"In general, status-conscious places are miserable for everyone, and the more, the worse." [3, next page]
Gatekeeping is predictable from the incentive structure: "For all the high-level talk about how we need to plug the leaks in our STEM education pipeline, not only are we not plugging the holes, we're proud of how fast the pipeline is leaking." [4]
"So why am I not an academic? There are many factors, and starting Tarsnap is certainly one; but most of them can be summarized as 'academia is a lousy place to do novel research'." [5]
"...whereas Newton could say, 'If I have seen a little farther than others, it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants,' I am forced to say, 'Today we stand on each other's feet.'" [6]
It is several repeated and very costly attempts that I made to do just that which leads me to give the advice I did.
The pyramid quote is an interesting one. Obviously there is a tension between being passionate about an idea/goal/cause but not being overly siloed. It seems the best-case scenario is: pick your passion, find some people who're thinking in the same general direction, and compromise the vision among yourselves.
Let's just say that the thought of solving some of the problems I'm interested in from outside academia has occurred to me. But I'm sure it's not all sunshine and rainbows on the outside, either, and moving from academia whose primary motivator is risk aversion to something like a startup is an extreme culture shock, the more so because my objective would be building something real, rather than bilking gullible VCs into an acquihire.
Young people need to realize that the things we love about science: the uncompromising search for the truth, its international and no-boundaries character, the ability to bow down to evidence, the ambition of the ideas, are just a very distilled fraction (basically the highlights) of a what it is a very mundane, fragile, political human activity, full of petty and lame characters, absurd situations and pathetic developments.
Missing from this actionable survey is the skill of answering questions that haven't yet been answered in the secondary literature (books, reviews) or even primary literature (journals). This is, of course, what research and a PhD is all about in the end.
In my experience, this fact was the #1 reason why some peers dropped out of PhD programs. They joined expecting a continuation of undergraduate education, which consists largely of recapitulating what appears in the secondary literature. Instead, what they got in graduate school was the expectation that they would be producing the primary literature. That's a very different game.
It was a game these peers discovered they hated playing. Nothing in college can prepare you for the isolation of spending your time becoming the world's expert on a narrow technical topic. Your usual reinforcement mechanisms of approval from family and friends gives way to slight comprehension at best. Then there is all of the alone time doing research requires. But I suspect the hardest part of all is the seemingly endless lineup of dead ends and false hope. Not only is success not assured, you often have no idea whether the result will have any utility even if you succeed.
Then, just when you've gotten the hang of this finding answers game you discover that the real expectation is to be the one who formulates good questions. The kinds of questions that, although they will certainly involve dead ends, will ultimately pay off in some meaningful way. Very little in a bachelor's prepares you for doing this. It's a hard-won skill that comes from a round or two (or three or four) of months (or years) spent answering questions that nobody cares about. A lot hinges on your relationship with your advisor on this one.
The PhD isn't just a bachelors degree but harder. It's a completely different animal. The skills in this article are very useful toward that end. But there's a lot more to the story when it comes to skills for finding answers to those unanswered questions, and formulating worthwhile questions without answers.
The benefit of all of this work and discomfort is that you come away with the ability to answer worthwhile questions that haven't yet been answered. And that's a highly transferrable and applicable skill.
> In my experience, this fact was the #1 reason why some peers dropped out of PhD programs. They joined expecting a continuation of undergraduate education, which consists largely of recapitulating what appears in the secondary literature. Instead, what they got in graduate school was the expectation that they would be producing the primary literature. That's a very different game.
Hit the nail on the head. I would like to add one point though - it's not just the unanswered questions, one sometimes doesn't even know which questions are unanswered.
Typically, up until a Ph.D - you are given a question and then asked for an answer which more often than not exists. Suddenly, in a Ph.D - not only do you not know the answer, you don't know the question too. The craft to come up with an important question, create a well-defined scope and then answer the question from different perspectives is the heart of a Ph.D program. The true skill is the ability to "learn to learn". The transferrable skill is to probe around for questions which are important, define them and then go ahead to answer them.
From my experience failing my PhD it's not so simple. The head of my lab have a bunch of topics he want to (make other people under him) investigate, sometimes really precise. One of the PhD student literally got his thesis question handed down after an experimented researcher worked on it for 6 months. Other like me had to found one themselves. It's obvious that the first student got a head start of about a year. The irony is he is now in difficulty writing his thesis, despite having published the required number of papers, which is not too surprising since he didn't get the problematic by himself.
> Suddenly, in a Ph.D - not only do you not know the answer, you don't know the question too.
Mirroring what tasogare said: There are a lot of research professors who will not give you the flexibility of finding the question. They often are paying you to be an RA, and will want you to work on their topics, not yours.
This may vary per discipline. In the circles I was in, this was the norm, though. Some professors were open to you choosing your own topic, but the "contract" was similar: If they are funding your research, then you should work on your own topic "on your own time".
"Then, just when you've gotten the hang of this finding answers game you discover that the real expectation is to be the one who formulates good questions."
And that is where I personally failed.
On the other hand, there's that funny moment...
One of the things I've heard repeatedly from pilots is that first solo flight changes everything. Before that, you're just some human. Afterwards, you are some human who can fly. Everything is somehow different, although I've never seen anyone really successfully describe how. I suspect it's different for everyone. But then I'm not a pilot.
In your dissertation defense, someone whose knowledge and intelligence you respect immensely will ask a difficult question. When you answer that question confidently and to their satisfaction, the world is a different place. For one thing, you're no longer student and teacher; you are peers. But that's not all it is.
Spot on! I had the same misconception, but it worked out OK b/c I was motivated at least in part by curiosity. When you're curious, you ask enough questions to get to the edge of knowledge and then pose a novel question. If you enjoy the coursework purely b/c you like having nice tidy answers to everything, being at the edge is uncomfortable & research isn't for you. OTOH, in my PhD coursework, the HW questions were almost always solved ones where we just had to reproduce the steps to get the answer that was included in the question formulation; this burned much of my curiosity out by the time I was done.
Those dead ends are negative results. While not easily publishable they can form the bulk of a thesis. Many people get demotivated because they treat a thesis like a journal publication. I, for one, was glad I finally didn't need to sex up the language to convince some editor.
> need to sex up the language to convince some editor.
I hated this pressure. I wrote up the core of my thesis as a manuscript for a second-tier journal, but my advisor though I had a shot at a first-tier publication. I disagreed, but I rewrote the paper anyway, and had to significantly rework/descope it. It ultimately wasn't accepted for the first-tier journal, so I rewrote it a second time for the original journal. The whole process was immensely frustrating (cat-herding coauthors, playing volleyball with editors/referees, trying to discern whether my concerns about overselling my results were legitimate issues of integrity vs. instances of imposter syndrome, ...).
I fell in love with the hard sciences because "reality must take precedence over public relations, for Nature cannot be fooled." [Richard Feynman] Finding out how much PR is actually involved was hugely disillusioning.
> The benefit of all of this work and discomfort is that you come away with the ability to answer worthwhile questions that haven't yet been answered. And that's a highly transferrable and applicable skill.
This is why I have come to see that PhDs can in some cases make excellent founders. Source: CS PhD turned founder ;-)
And this makes everything else in the survey easier. Topic sentences and presentation skills are useful but most important is having something original and substantial to say. The rest follows and is easy by comparison.
Two things I would add to this that I learned early on in my PhD:
1. Presentations aren’t really about conveying information.
I sat though so many dull presentations, they were very informative but I can read a paper quicker than they can badly present the same information.
The best presentations were the ones that covered the whys of the work, the applications, the next steps, the specific problem areas - often these aren’t covered in the paper but, armed with that extra insight I am far more likely to read the paper and remember it.
Presentations are (as the author says) about telling stories.
2. Show up. So many PhDs waft around not doing a whole lot, and so land up being on the program forever. This only benefits the uni and is detrimental to the student. I noticed in the first month of my PhD that most people did a lot more work at the end than the beginning - so I flipped it, worked consistently from day one and got done in just under 3 years.
Carry this over to your daily life and it’s almost a super power for getting stuff done. Consistently showing up and plugging away in something reaps rewards.
> So many PhDs waft around not doing a whole lot, and so land up being on the program forever. This only benefits the uni and is detrimental to the student. I noticed in the first month of my PhD that most people did a lot more work at the end than the beginning - so I flipped it, worked consistently from day one and got done in just under 3 years.
Amen. PhD is a marathon. Other degrees may be a 100m or 400m race but PhD is about consistency.
100% agree with number 2. A PhD is a job. 5 days a week, 9 to 5, or you’ll never finish in 3 years. Fastest I saw was 2 years, which was a guy that put in all the hours. Slowest was a guy that took 8 years, ‘full time’, though he was never there, but clearly didn’t have a job. Goodness knows how they supported themselves for all that time. In the uk you had a grant for 3 years when I did mine.
Yep, this was my attitude - I was technically done in 2.5 years but my uni wouldn’t let you submit until 2yr 10 months - so I started my first company in those intervening months.
To anyone reading this who is considering a PhD, start writing up your thesis as soon as you can, like 6 months in if you can and have enough to start. You can always go back and change when you’ve written but it makes life so much easier if you’re “always writing up” then you’re not terrified of starting.
Oh and yeah: 9 to 5, full time, give yourself a standard holiday allowance and stick to it.
While I agree with no. 2, I think part of the reason that makes me not do it is realizing that I will have to do it all my life if I become a faculty. I have seen my friends graduated from Ph.D. and they literally told me that their life is basically the same, except that they now have service tasks to do on top of research. To think that I will always have to plug away and not have enough time for family or relationships makes me a bit demotivated.
As a faculty member, each of your three constituencies is almost completely invisible to the others. So each one thinks you work hardly at all. Only your family sees the total hours, and only your tenure and promotion committee sees the total contributions (and typically they up-weight research, so don't skimp there).
“Showing up” is the best advice of all, better than any of the (great) ones presented by the article. Actually, none of the other advices will work unless you show up. I’ve seen people digging around for advice in the hopes that it will save them from disaster or help them do more with less time, but the truth is that the advice only works if you are actually willing to suffer through the working hours.
I also did a PhD and this is all true. I realized many of these things years later.
I think many of these points come down to confidence. When you are in the trenches, you really, really do know a lot, and you know it in incredible detail. In fact, in your career, if you leave academia you will probably never know a unique small "thing" in such detail ever again simply because you will have to make something as opposed to studying it. Not even your professor knows everything about what you do, and so she may give advice that seems to contradict what you think. It is vital that you trust yourself enough to speak up. Yes, the professor is really smart, and knows more than you, but she didn't spend 3 weeks in the lab wrestling with some optical setup like you did and you know some things better then her, better than anyone in fact. It's hard to admit, I know.
Also, you may really have wrong assumptions about the progress you're going to make in the project. You may feel very bad after a year of messing around while the prof thinks you're doing well. Talk about these feelings. The prof knows what's normal, you on the other hand may think you're the next Einstein (and assume Einstein wrote something great every other month) and constantly disappoint yourself.
Similar to learning software engineering on the job. Once you're leaving the baby level you stop being able to take the more senior engineers' word as golden. You will know some things better temporarily due to recent intense exposure. The tricky part is figuring out when that's true and when others can see something you can't. This never leaves you I guess.
> It is vital that you trust yourself enough to speak up. Yes, the professor is really smart, and knows more than you, but she didn't spend 3 weeks in the lab wrestling with some optical setup like you did and you know some things better then her, better than anyone in fact. It's hard to admit, I know.
It's really not. It was obvious to me about 9 months in that my advisor really didn't know all that much. The professors who really seemed to have technical chops were either new faculty still trying to get tenure, or the rare iconoclast who didn't play the game and had a single grad student. The tenured professors with large research labs were frankly better politicians than they were scientists.
>It is vital that you trust yourself enough to speak up. Yes, the professor is really smart, and knows more than you, but she didn't spend 3 weeks in the lab wrestling with some optical setup like you did and you know some things better then her, better than anyone in fact.
Amen to that! It's better to have the discussion than to silently disagree (well, assuming your thesis advisor isn't a raging narcissist, and assuming you are sufficiently tactful about speaking up) because there's a chance you are mistaken & the feedback would be helpful.
>You may feel very bad after a year of messing around while the prof thinks you're doing well. Talk about these feelings.
Another one that I wish I had known (again, needs caveats about unhealthy advisors, though). It's easy to underestimate the scale of a task as a grad student (the devil is in the details), and to therefore bite off more than you can chew & feel guilty for choking.
I agree, I was fortunate to have a very nice prof, really dedicated to the development of his PhD students, who saw the importance of social events and tried to have some fun himself, eager to roll up his sleeves and help in the lab, he enjoyed it. He was a bit further in his career with no need to publish or perish anymore.
That's also an advice I give to aspiring PhD students, look for a warm place, talk to the other PhD students about the working atmosphere. You don't want to end up a "measurement slave", as one of the 4 PhDs that (and I quote a prof during a talk) "was burned on this subject".
All of these tips are good, but the “get excited” one has been my secret weapon through life.
A professor in undergrad gave me the tip to get excited or even feign interest when reading dense written material in order to retain more.
After trying it throughout a difficult class I was amazed at how well it worked. I applied it to every other academic thing I didn’t want to do and noticed immediately how much easier and enjoyable school was. I still use the “fake excitement” trick for my work all the time.
Also, it’s kind of like a Trojan excitement because after I fake the intense interest I do genuinely become interested more often than not.
It's hard to remain excited when so many professors don't prepare for lectures, teach outdated material, rely on question banks for exams, and play the part of ball-breakers. I went back to school for a different degree program in my 30s with a fresh perspective and a much bigger drive from 15 years ago when I did my first two degrees. Mind you that it was during COVID but what did I get? A bunch of "read these chapters, take these exams" kind of lectures. The current education model is shot, particularly the PhD degree where you practically grind out nonsense for years on end only for your advisor to collect the funds and stick their name on top of your papers.
Maybe you have a more independent mindset having gone into a PhD program a little later than most, but the whole point of a PhD program (at least in the sciences) is that it’s an apprenticeship. You study under an established researcher using their grant, so it’s not “your” paper. You are supposed to work together using grant money from your advisor.
If you have obtained grant funding on your own and are working independently on a novel research project you thought of yourself, then you can call it your paper. But that scenario usually doesn’t happen, because it’s hard to come by funding without a good proposal, and it’s hard to write or qualify for a grant without the training one gets in a PhD program.
If you are working using grant money, lab equipment, lab space, data, models, software, or methods acquired and developed in your advisor’s lab, then even if you write an entire paper yourself it’s still both your names that go on the paper. I’ve had a few like that and was glad to share the credit, because it wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.
There seems to be an increasing expectation that undergraduate education should be like high school. By the time you start studying at university you should be able to study independently. The lecturer isn’t there to entertain you or to hold your hand.
There is another, more fundamental lesson, that I learned during my (failed) PhD - make sure that the environment suits you. By this, I mean do some research beforehand about the supervisor and the alumni. If possible talk to one of the other PhD candidates in their department and find out if you are compatible with the working environment.
This could be hard to do such early in your life, as one does not have much experience. Usually it falls in one of two categories - either you are someone that can do the work but needs support and guidance, or you prefer working on your own, in which case a more hands-off supervisor would be OK.
If you are of the former type and find yourself working for a supervisor that doesn't offer much support, it will be very hard to finish anything, and most likely you will become demotivated and drop out. Likewise, if you want to try things on your own but your supervisor wants to dictate where to go next, there will be a lot of conflicts and even the possibility that they block the thesis until it is done their way.
Having other PhD colleagues around and bouncing ideas off of them is worth its weight in gold, make sure that there is at least one that is working on something similar as you are.
Yeah, this is great advice for undergraduates considering graduate applications. I lucked out with my supervisor in terms of his advising style (rather hands-off, which suited me), but I could have easily gotten stuck with a bad match. I picked the school, rather than the advisor, which I now realize wasn't the best way to go. [Edit: I will say that picking a school where there were multiple faculty to choose from in the topical area was a good decision, because that provides options.]
All true. I learned about topic sentences only recently, I wish I'd heard of them years ago!
I'll add something else I have realised:
Your Gantt chart is not for you.
I hate Gantt charts - they're out of date the second they're created; they take too long to update; there's very little decent free software for them that everyone uses; etc etc.
But your supervisor will probably want to see one. Or your funder, or examiners, and so on.
That's the point: sometimes you just gotta transform information into the format that's expected. From your perspective it may be easier to say "I've completed task X but task Y will drag on for another two weeks" than it is to update a spreadsheet and render a Gantt chart, attach it to an email and stick it in a shared drive. But from the supervisor/funder/examiner perspective, they need a way to very rapidly assimilate complex detail and spot problems.
A lot of academia is about clear communication of complex material. Your supervisor probably has several students, as well multiple projects of their own, teaching duties, management duties, and so on. Your Gantt chart is for them, not for you!
Simple and obvious in hindsight, but it really helps me put aside the grinding resentment I feel whenever it comes to updating a Gantt chart :)
I did a PhD in physics and feel like I missed all the great "meta lessons" some people seem to learn in their PhD. Mostly I just spent my time alone doing calculations either with pen and paper or computer. Most of the stuff I did was either suggested by my supervisor or was obvious continuation of some previous work. Even after I got my PhD I didn't feel like I was really a member of the research community or that I had a PhD level command of my field. I just did a bunch of calculations, wrote papers on what I did and got a PhD. It was almost like doing homework on a really long course, but just more difficult.
I left academia after a failed postdoc because I realized I had no clue how to conduct research on my own; I didn't know how to pick good research topics, or how to manage my time, or how to find people to collaborate with, or how to collaborate productively with someone for that matter.
I'm not sure if the fault was my supervisors or mine. I'm a bit "on the spectrum" and have lots of difficulties with social interaction, but I guess so do many other people drawn to technical fields and still they manage to navigate the system somehow. I certainly never sought for any kind of mentorship because I didn't realize it was needed and, also, because it felt extremely awkward.
Also, the whole academic system seemed a bit fucked up. People do research and write papers because they have to produce something measurable, not because the research they do is actually interesting or important. I published five papers during my PhD and I would say that maybe only one of them was slightly interesting or important, and even that could have been much better. All of the papers were published in proper, highly regarded journals (mostly Physical Review). Towards the end of the PhD I started having some vague ideas of stuff that would be _actually_ interesting and more worth my time, but also more difficult and less certain results. When was I supposed to do those? I was still in the mindset that I wanted to stay in academia so I couldn't take any risks.
To be honest, that's kind of normal and 5 papers is pretty good going for a PhD (assuming at least some of them were at reputable venues). The truism is that you should view the PhD as training you how to do research, but not necessarily that the results you produce will be in anyway ground breaking. Of course there are exceptions. As you develop it would be expected you apply for funding/fellowships to pursue more difficult problems etc. and demonstrate more independence.
As the joke goes, once you realize it's all bullshit is the day they go "Congratulations, you finally understand the field, so here is your PhD". Then you just have to decide if you want to continue on and get paid to do bullshit.
The thing is, I think there are people in academia who are not just bullshitting. Occasionally real scientific advances do happen. It's just that if I don't personally have a breakthrough in sight, I'm supposed to just produce garbage and pretend that I'm doing a good job while trying to do the actual good research on my free time or something.
>People do research and write papers because they have to produce something measurable, not because the research they do is actually interesting or important.
Yes, so much of this. I think it's a direct consequence of your next point:
>I wanted to stay in academia so I couldn't take any risks.
Yes, I realized I was part of the problem, but couldn't help it (except by leaving). If it was only a bunch of PhD students and postdocs wasting their time, the boring research wouldn't be such a problem. It becomes a problem, however, when everyone is doing it and the actual good publications get drowned in noise.
Readit News
- Even the most blatantly wrong and illogical published work can only be displaced by another publication that explains/does the same phenomenon better; i.e., people are going to keep believing in phlogiston until someone shows them oxygen. If you simply point out inconsistencies in phlogiston theory, in person or in writing, they may well make a variety of unwanted psychological deductions about you.
- Similarly, nobody actually enjoys being around critics or enduring criticism, and therefore you will observe many senior scientists partially avoiding the major downsides of being a critic by artfully concealing criticisms inside what sounds to the uninitiated like mutual affirmation sessions. You have to listen very closely and learn the lingo to pick this up.
- Never question a scientific superior (other than maybe a direct mentor or very close colleague) with any other approach besides "I have a helpful suggestion about how you can maybe reach your intended destination better/faster/more precisely". Regardless of where that destination might be, such as off a cliff or into a wall.
- The opinion/fact ratio you are allowed to have as a scientist is directly and very strongly correlated with seniority, H-index, and so on.
- The incentive structure of scientific publication is such that there are big rewards for being right on an important question, bigger the earlier you are to the party, and little to no penalties for being wrong, so long as the error cannot be provably and directly linked to fraud. There are a variety of interesting consequences to this incentive structure.
[0] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Structure_of_Scientific_Re...
[0] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Research_program
[1] Lakatos, Imre. (1978) The Methodology of Scientific Research Programmes: Philosophical Papers (J. Worrall & G. Currie, Eds.). Cambridge University Press.
This is fantastic insight and I'd like to thank you for sharing it with our group.
Would you agree that the model of rewards for correctness and penalization only in the case of fraud is the core feature of science? And what separates it from business or politics where being an honest failure is worse than being dishonest but successful?
Again, this is a great post, and I think you have a fantastic future in the sociology of science!
https://pastebin.com/fsrTtiKY
I think science is too big a thing to have a small set of "core features", and the question of how to usefully define "honesty" in a scientific context is another big topic, but reading about "bullshit" (the term of art that has its own literature, not the colloquialism) is a good place to start thinking about it.
I would suggest that fraud is one of the rarest types of dishonesty, because people who are both smart and dishonest have less risky ways to proceed, and that such people are very glad fraud exists, because it misdirects attention away from their arguably more damaging and prevalent methods. Feynman has a passage about how honesty in science is more a state of mind, which I agree with. But really, the techniques to be dishonest with low risk are the same in science, journalism, politics, and business.
My field isn't sociology of science though; these are just views from the genomics trenches.
In your message I observe, very careful criticism, uncalled praise, admission and defense of a system that excludes most criticism...
"Never question a scientific superior?" Not parsing that concept, please elaborate.
I think the way it ultimately works is that you have to be disillusioned from the grade-school fairy tales told to the public about how science works before you can learn to live and work in the environment that actually exists rather than the one you wish existed.
> "Never question a scientific superior?" Not parsing that concept, please elaborate.
tech < grad student < postdoc < junior faculty < full prof < Big Guy/Gal < Nobel Laureate < NIH Director
People above you in that chain will accept limited feedback on methods to attain their chosen goals and will greatly resent questions about whether their selected goals are worthwhile/realistic/rational, or whether their gestalt vision of the field's conventional wisdom is correct.
1. Bad work only being displaced by good work: everything works like this. To replace some useless commercial product (take your pick) someone has to come up with something better. Same goes for information.
2. Nobody liking criticism can be rephrased as it being important to attack ideas, not people, when you have to work with those people.
3. "Never question a scientific superior" is the first piece of advise I think is too cynical. As a warning against undermining a colleague in public when you need their support, I agree, and that's kind of a restatement of #1 and #2. But science really does have a culture of publicly debating contentious ideas. You can definitely be more critical in an event specifically held as a debate / open forum than in a presentation Q&A though, and at a social event it's polite to be at least vaguely supportive.
Kind of a tangent to the later points: Day to day scientific research is mostly chasing dead ends and other activity that is (in hindsight) mostly useless, but there is genuine societal value in having a large body of skilled workers available. That is, science spends a lot of time spinning its wheels trying to figure out the right question to ask, and once this becomes clear there is rapid progress. This means the papers published in between the breakthrough periods aren't really worth paying attention to unless you work in that area. Having a lot of scientists and engineers in the workforce so we collectively have a decent chance at obtaining and exploiting next breakthrough is the point, the papers are just a byproduct.
If you think you've been put on a bum topic or your supervisor has put you on the scientific equivalent of a PIP with no way up or out your room for maneuvering is limited, to put it politely.
Your observations aptly apply to industry as well except for your final one regarding the incentive structure.
Thank you for commenting.
Deleted Comment
I was just trying to learn. Learning bad is what I learned.
This one is a direct contrast to your advice (which speaks volumes about what's wrong with academia): "A good scientist, in other words, does not merely ignore conventional wisdom, but makes a special effort to break it. Scientists go looking for trouble."[0]
This was written about physics at Caltech, but applies more broadly. It explains why the ability to 'manage up' is so critical for early-career success. "[...] departments are run, for better and worse, by the professors who often lack managerial experience. Worse, they are generally unaware of this shortcoming, assuming incorrectly that management is trivially easy compared to their topics of study and merits minimal effort. We have now seen the consequences of this lack of attention." [1]
Academic politics is a great reason not to stay in academia: "Look for environments where competitors see themselves as playing a game, rather than fighting for survival — this prevents rankings within the hierarchy from becoming an existential problem." [2]
This book has a great chapter of career advice, here's a gem: "Don't build a pyramid. Everyone seems to build one pyramid per career. A pyramid is an ambitious system that one person really cares about and that winds up working well, but then just sits in the desert because nobody else cares the same way. This happens usually just after leaving graduate school." [3]
"In general, status-conscious places are miserable for everyone, and the more, the worse." [3, next page]
Gatekeeping is predictable from the incentive structure: "For all the high-level talk about how we need to plug the leaks in our STEM education pipeline, not only are we not plugging the holes, we're proud of how fast the pipeline is leaking." [4]
"So why am I not an academic? There are many factors, and starting Tarsnap is certainly one; but most of them can be summarized as 'academia is a lousy place to do novel research'." [5]
"...whereas Newton could say, 'If I have seen a little farther than others, it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants,' I am forced to say, 'Today we stand on each other's feet.'" [6]
[0] http://www.paulgraham.com/say.html
[1] https://caseyhandmer.wordpress.com/2019/08/09/caltech-astrop...
[2] https://www.briantimar.com/notes/mimetic/mimetic/
[3] Phillip Hobbs, "Building Electrooptical systems: making it all work" 2nd Ed, p392
[4] https://danluu.com/teach-debugging/
[5] http://www.daemonology.net/blog/2020-09-20-On-the-use-of-a-l...
[6] Richard Hamming 1968 Turing Award lecture, Journal of the ACM 16 (1), January 1969, p. 3–12
It is several repeated and very costly attempts that I made to do just that which leads me to give the advice I did.
The pyramid quote is an interesting one. Obviously there is a tension between being passionate about an idea/goal/cause but not being overly siloed. It seems the best-case scenario is: pick your passion, find some people who're thinking in the same general direction, and compromise the vision among yourselves.
Let's just say that the thought of solving some of the problems I'm interested in from outside academia has occurred to me. But I'm sure it's not all sunshine and rainbows on the outside, either, and moving from academia whose primary motivator is risk aversion to something like a startup is an extreme culture shock, the more so because my objective would be building something real, rather than bilking gullible VCs into an acquihire.
Really good thoughts there.
In my experience, this fact was the #1 reason why some peers dropped out of PhD programs. They joined expecting a continuation of undergraduate education, which consists largely of recapitulating what appears in the secondary literature. Instead, what they got in graduate school was the expectation that they would be producing the primary literature. That's a very different game.
It was a game these peers discovered they hated playing. Nothing in college can prepare you for the isolation of spending your time becoming the world's expert on a narrow technical topic. Your usual reinforcement mechanisms of approval from family and friends gives way to slight comprehension at best. Then there is all of the alone time doing research requires. But I suspect the hardest part of all is the seemingly endless lineup of dead ends and false hope. Not only is success not assured, you often have no idea whether the result will have any utility even if you succeed.
Then, just when you've gotten the hang of this finding answers game you discover that the real expectation is to be the one who formulates good questions. The kinds of questions that, although they will certainly involve dead ends, will ultimately pay off in some meaningful way. Very little in a bachelor's prepares you for doing this. It's a hard-won skill that comes from a round or two (or three or four) of months (or years) spent answering questions that nobody cares about. A lot hinges on your relationship with your advisor on this one.
The PhD isn't just a bachelors degree but harder. It's a completely different animal. The skills in this article are very useful toward that end. But there's a lot more to the story when it comes to skills for finding answers to those unanswered questions, and formulating worthwhile questions without answers.
The benefit of all of this work and discomfort is that you come away with the ability to answer worthwhile questions that haven't yet been answered. And that's a highly transferrable and applicable skill.
Hit the nail on the head. I would like to add one point though - it's not just the unanswered questions, one sometimes doesn't even know which questions are unanswered.
Typically, up until a Ph.D - you are given a question and then asked for an answer which more often than not exists. Suddenly, in a Ph.D - not only do you not know the answer, you don't know the question too. The craft to come up with an important question, create a well-defined scope and then answer the question from different perspectives is the heart of a Ph.D program. The true skill is the ability to "learn to learn". The transferrable skill is to probe around for questions which are important, define them and then go ahead to answer them.
Mirroring what tasogare said: There are a lot of research professors who will not give you the flexibility of finding the question. They often are paying you to be an RA, and will want you to work on their topics, not yours.
This may vary per discipline. In the circles I was in, this was the norm, though. Some professors were open to you choosing your own topic, but the "contract" was similar: If they are funding your research, then you should work on your own topic "on your own time".
"Then, just when you've gotten the hang of this finding answers game you discover that the real expectation is to be the one who formulates good questions."
And that is where I personally failed.
On the other hand, there's that funny moment...
One of the things I've heard repeatedly from pilots is that first solo flight changes everything. Before that, you're just some human. Afterwards, you are some human who can fly. Everything is somehow different, although I've never seen anyone really successfully describe how. I suspect it's different for everyone. But then I'm not a pilot.
In your dissertation defense, someone whose knowledge and intelligence you respect immensely will ask a difficult question. When you answer that question confidently and to their satisfaction, the world is a different place. For one thing, you're no longer student and teacher; you are peers. But that's not all it is.
I hated this pressure. I wrote up the core of my thesis as a manuscript for a second-tier journal, but my advisor though I had a shot at a first-tier publication. I disagreed, but I rewrote the paper anyway, and had to significantly rework/descope it. It ultimately wasn't accepted for the first-tier journal, so I rewrote it a second time for the original journal. The whole process was immensely frustrating (cat-herding coauthors, playing volleyball with editors/referees, trying to discern whether my concerns about overselling my results were legitimate issues of integrity vs. instances of imposter syndrome, ...).
I fell in love with the hard sciences because "reality must take precedence over public relations, for Nature cannot be fooled." [Richard Feynman] Finding out how much PR is actually involved was hugely disillusioning.
This is why I have come to see that PhDs can in some cases make excellent founders. Source: CS PhD turned founder ;-)
1. Presentations aren’t really about conveying information.
I sat though so many dull presentations, they were very informative but I can read a paper quicker than they can badly present the same information.
The best presentations were the ones that covered the whys of the work, the applications, the next steps, the specific problem areas - often these aren’t covered in the paper but, armed with that extra insight I am far more likely to read the paper and remember it.
Presentations are (as the author says) about telling stories.
2. Show up. So many PhDs waft around not doing a whole lot, and so land up being on the program forever. This only benefits the uni and is detrimental to the student. I noticed in the first month of my PhD that most people did a lot more work at the end than the beginning - so I flipped it, worked consistently from day one and got done in just under 3 years.
Carry this over to your daily life and it’s almost a super power for getting stuff done. Consistently showing up and plugging away in something reaps rewards.
Amen. PhD is a marathon. Other degrees may be a 100m or 400m race but PhD is about consistency.
To anyone reading this who is considering a PhD, start writing up your thesis as soon as you can, like 6 months in if you can and have enough to start. You can always go back and change when you’ve written but it makes life so much easier if you’re “always writing up” then you’re not terrified of starting.
Oh and yeah: 9 to 5, full time, give yourself a standard holiday allowance and stick to it.
As a faculty member, each of your three constituencies is almost completely invisible to the others. So each one thinks you work hardly at all. Only your family sees the total hours, and only your tenure and promotion committee sees the total contributions (and typically they up-weight research, so don't skimp there).
I think many of these points come down to confidence. When you are in the trenches, you really, really do know a lot, and you know it in incredible detail. In fact, in your career, if you leave academia you will probably never know a unique small "thing" in such detail ever again simply because you will have to make something as opposed to studying it. Not even your professor knows everything about what you do, and so she may give advice that seems to contradict what you think. It is vital that you trust yourself enough to speak up. Yes, the professor is really smart, and knows more than you, but she didn't spend 3 weeks in the lab wrestling with some optical setup like you did and you know some things better then her, better than anyone in fact. It's hard to admit, I know.
Also, you may really have wrong assumptions about the progress you're going to make in the project. You may feel very bad after a year of messing around while the prof thinks you're doing well. Talk about these feelings. The prof knows what's normal, you on the other hand may think you're the next Einstein (and assume Einstein wrote something great every other month) and constantly disappoint yourself.
It's really not. It was obvious to me about 9 months in that my advisor really didn't know all that much. The professors who really seemed to have technical chops were either new faculty still trying to get tenure, or the rare iconoclast who didn't play the game and had a single grad student. The tenured professors with large research labs were frankly better politicians than they were scientists.
Amen to that! It's better to have the discussion than to silently disagree (well, assuming your thesis advisor isn't a raging narcissist, and assuming you are sufficiently tactful about speaking up) because there's a chance you are mistaken & the feedback would be helpful.
>You may feel very bad after a year of messing around while the prof thinks you're doing well. Talk about these feelings.
Another one that I wish I had known (again, needs caveats about unhealthy advisors, though). It's easy to underestimate the scale of a task as a grad student (the devil is in the details), and to therefore bite off more than you can chew & feel guilty for choking.
That's also an advice I give to aspiring PhD students, look for a warm place, talk to the other PhD students about the working atmosphere. You don't want to end up a "measurement slave", as one of the 4 PhDs that (and I quote a prof during a talk) "was burned on this subject".
A professor in undergrad gave me the tip to get excited or even feign interest when reading dense written material in order to retain more.
After trying it throughout a difficult class I was amazed at how well it worked. I applied it to every other academic thing I didn’t want to do and noticed immediately how much easier and enjoyable school was. I still use the “fake excitement” trick for my work all the time.
Also, it’s kind of like a Trojan excitement because after I fake the intense interest I do genuinely become interested more often than not.
Maybe you have a more independent mindset having gone into a PhD program a little later than most, but the whole point of a PhD program (at least in the sciences) is that it’s an apprenticeship. You study under an established researcher using their grant, so it’s not “your” paper. You are supposed to work together using grant money from your advisor.
If you have obtained grant funding on your own and are working independently on a novel research project you thought of yourself, then you can call it your paper. But that scenario usually doesn’t happen, because it’s hard to come by funding without a good proposal, and it’s hard to write or qualify for a grant without the training one gets in a PhD program.
If you are working using grant money, lab equipment, lab space, data, models, software, or methods acquired and developed in your advisor’s lab, then even if you write an entire paper yourself it’s still both your names that go on the paper. I’ve had a few like that and was glad to share the credit, because it wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.
This could be hard to do such early in your life, as one does not have much experience. Usually it falls in one of two categories - either you are someone that can do the work but needs support and guidance, or you prefer working on your own, in which case a more hands-off supervisor would be OK.
If you are of the former type and find yourself working for a supervisor that doesn't offer much support, it will be very hard to finish anything, and most likely you will become demotivated and drop out. Likewise, if you want to try things on your own but your supervisor wants to dictate where to go next, there will be a lot of conflicts and even the possibility that they block the thesis until it is done their way.
Having other PhD colleagues around and bouncing ideas off of them is worth its weight in gold, make sure that there is at least one that is working on something similar as you are.
I'll add something else I have realised:
Your Gantt chart is not for you.
I hate Gantt charts - they're out of date the second they're created; they take too long to update; there's very little decent free software for them that everyone uses; etc etc.
But your supervisor will probably want to see one. Or your funder, or examiners, and so on.
That's the point: sometimes you just gotta transform information into the format that's expected. From your perspective it may be easier to say "I've completed task X but task Y will drag on for another two weeks" than it is to update a spreadsheet and render a Gantt chart, attach it to an email and stick it in a shared drive. But from the supervisor/funder/examiner perspective, they need a way to very rapidly assimilate complex detail and spot problems.
A lot of academia is about clear communication of complex material. Your supervisor probably has several students, as well multiple projects of their own, teaching duties, management duties, and so on. Your Gantt chart is for them, not for you!
Simple and obvious in hindsight, but it really helps me put aside the grinding resentment I feel whenever it comes to updating a Gantt chart :)
I left academia after a failed postdoc because I realized I had no clue how to conduct research on my own; I didn't know how to pick good research topics, or how to manage my time, or how to find people to collaborate with, or how to collaborate productively with someone for that matter.
I'm not sure if the fault was my supervisors or mine. I'm a bit "on the spectrum" and have lots of difficulties with social interaction, but I guess so do many other people drawn to technical fields and still they manage to navigate the system somehow. I certainly never sought for any kind of mentorship because I didn't realize it was needed and, also, because it felt extremely awkward.
Also, the whole academic system seemed a bit fucked up. People do research and write papers because they have to produce something measurable, not because the research they do is actually interesting or important. I published five papers during my PhD and I would say that maybe only one of them was slightly interesting or important, and even that could have been much better. All of the papers were published in proper, highly regarded journals (mostly Physical Review). Towards the end of the PhD I started having some vague ideas of stuff that would be _actually_ interesting and more worth my time, but also more difficult and less certain results. When was I supposed to do those? I was still in the mindset that I wanted to stay in academia so I couldn't take any risks.
Yes, so much of this. I think it's a direct consequence of your next point:
>I wanted to stay in academia so I couldn't take any risks.
That's how boring research gets prioritized.
Yes, I realized I was part of the problem, but couldn't help it (except by leaving). If it was only a bunch of PhD students and postdocs wasting their time, the boring research wouldn't be such a problem. It becomes a problem, however, when everyone is doing it and the actual good publications get drowned in noise.