Archive for the 'Scientific Culture' Category

What follows is my analysis of the issues discussed in “The Floor is Yours” and “The Week in Preview.” I have closed both of those threads and directed visitors wishing to continue the discussion to come here. I think it makes the most sense if I start by reviewing the news and talking about the “professional” issues in play. I’ll conclude with a revoltingly pompous dissertation on ChemBark as a medium for chemical news and a venue for subsequent analysis and discussion.

Allow me to apologize in advance for writing such a long article. I know that most of you have neither the time nor inclination to read lengthy posts, but parsing these ideas into smaller sections would create problems in that the complete picture would be missing.

Princeton’s Hire: Legitimate News, Not “Gossip”

As you know by now, the news to which am I referring is that Princeton University offered a tenure-track faculty position to a graduate student in the chemistry department at Harvard. I stand behind the validity of this information and the other facts presented below. While as a general rule you can count on the accuracy of the information that I post to this site, the same cannot be said for the info that visitors leave in the comments. Read anonymous comments with a healthy dose of skepticism.

The first task that I’m faced with is to defend this story as legitimate news rather than personal gossip. A lot of people improperly label some of the news in our field as “gossip” simply because the stories have aspects that portray people or organizations in a negative light. The real criterion one should use in identifying gossip is not negativity, but relevance. Gossip is news that bears only a loose connection to chemistry or the culture of our field. Gossip often focuses on issues like sexual orientation, romance, personal finance, health, addiction, and criminal history. There is very little or nothing for us to learn, as chemists, from gossip.

The story here is clearly not gossip. The news is of interest to the community not just because it deals with a top department and the subject of getting a job in academia, but because this particular hiring process marked a substantial deviation from the norm. I have stated before and adamantly maintain that it has become increasingly uncommon over the past four decades for grad students to be offered assistant professorships, especially without the expectation of pursuing postdoctoral study. Many commenters have listed examples of professors who did not complete a postdoc (e.g., Evans, Denmark, Whitesides), but these cases only support my argument. The last such hire that comes to mind is Liu in 1999; the rest occurred many moons ago. In my opinion, that qualifies as rare.

At this point, the discussion splits into two subjects: postdocs and hiring practices.

Postdoctoral Study: A Valuable Learning Experience or a Waste of Time?

From my perspective, the most interesting questions raised by this hire deal with the pros, cons, and necessity of pursuing postdoctoral study. As commenter Metastable said:

This interesting string of comments (much more interesting with Professor Reichman’s involvement) brings up a very important question: what is the point of a postdoc? Many scientists (named by Professor Reichman and others above) have had incredibly successful careers without one. And, it certainly is not the norm in many other disciplines (economics is one that rapidly comes to mind).

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It seems to be a protracted holding pattern for future scientists, consuming their more creative years. A case could be made that it allows the young scientist to gain experience, but is another 2-3 years working in someone else’s lab really all that valuable? And, is the research environment that much more complicated than 20 years ago, before the postdoc became a “requirement.”

The vast majority of people seeking a career in academia complete a postdoc, and a lot of commenters have left great reasons for doing one. Allow me to review some of them:

1) Expertise — Postdoctoral study is the highest plateau of the education continuum (grades 21-23, or so). During a postdoc, you will pick up a new set of skills and gain experience with a new research problem. A postdoc is a chance to broaden your base of knowledge in preparation for dealing with the world’s ever-growing emphasis on “interdisciplinary” research.

2) Sustained Productivity — Doing a postdoc allows you to demonstrate that you can switch research problems and be productive in a short time span, exactly what you will be expected to do as an assistant professor. In this regard, getting publications out of your postdoc will make you less risky from the standpoint of a university’s trusting you to set up a successful lab of your own.

3) Networking — Working at a new school for a new advisor will hopefully expand your “network” of colleagues. You will gain new contacts in the form of both labmates and professors. You will establish mutually-beneficial intellectual relationships that will last a lifetime. If you’re lucky, some doors may open in terms of finding a job, whether in academia or industry. And as mentioned in the comments, having another letter of recommendation will also help you get hired. Such a letter might be of greater importance to those with graduate advisors who are not well known (or liked) in the community.

4) Exposure to a New Environment — Whenever you change schools, you are exposed to different styles of management, ethical standards, social norms, experimental techniques, safety procedures, and regional cultures. Broadening your horizons will allow you to sample different “ways of doing business” from which you can pick and choose what you think works best when the time comes to set up your own lab.

5) Publications — Doing a postdoc will allow you to build a deeper record of publication. In addition to the papers that you will publish in your new lab, a postdoctoral stint will allow time for your grad school work to make it through the review process. Longer publication lists are definitely a good thing in terms of impressing future employers and securing funding.

6) Buying Time — There’s often not a lot of time left over for writing original proposals when you’re busy trying to write your Ph.D. thesis. Doing a postdoc gives you some time to decompress following the thesis crunch, sink your teeth into a new set of research problems, consult acquaintances on job hunting, and write proposals with renewed intensity.

Of course, these good things come at a cost: spending yet another two or three years in school when you could, in theory, be building your own research program. As Metastable said, these two or three years come in the prime of your life. Furthermore, it’s not guaranteed that you will have a good experience during your postdoc; you are taking a risk whenever you enter a new job.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the consensus opinion of the community is that the good things about doing a postdoc outweigh the bad, because the overwhelming majority of people who wish to enter academia complete a postdoc. Given the recent news, should we question the value this path? Does undertaking postdoctoral training actually enhance the quality of an assistant professor? Are there any worthwhile data that support this claim? If not, why does almost every chemist planning to enter academia do one?

A lot of people make a big deal about exploring new areas as your professional development progresses. Obviously, such a perception did not hinder the candidate in the present case, as she did her undergrad and grad work at the same school for the same advisor. It’s also interesting to note that when referring to his not seeking a postdoctoral position after grad school, George Whitesides told C&EN, “If you have a reasonably good taste about what’s new, then you might as well go it.” (C&EN, 26/3/2007, p. 20). If this is true, then is it the schools or the candidates themselves who are hesitant about bypassing postdoctoral training? Surely we can all agree that doing a postdoc is not a prerequisite for success as an assistant professor.

At the end of the day, I don’t know if we have enough data to answer most of these questions with any degree of satisfaction. Where do we even start? What is the best metric for “success” as an assistant professor? Furthermore, a number of potential confounding factors hinder proper analysis of this issue. For instance, the grad students who are offered assistant professorships are not randomly sampled—they are, presumably, the cream of the crop. I suppose we are forced to base our analysis largely on anecdotal evidence. Feel free to provide some data…

Fellow grad students out there: do you have any classmates who applied for academic jobs straight out of grad school? If so, were these applications targeted to a specific school or did they cast a wider net (the size typical of a postdoctoral candidate going academic)? Professors out there: do you see a lot of applications from grad students? In cases where you do see these applications, did the candidates have contacts at the school or were they especially encouraged to apply, i.e., were they recruited in any way?

The more information the better, but you needn’t use names. They don’t add much to the conversation and they get people riled up.

The Competition for Academic Talent

A second line of discussion that relates to the Princeton story centers on the techniques that departments use when competing for academic talent. Intellectual ability is a precious commodity, and schools want to attract candidates who will build fantastic research programs, win grant money, and increase the prestige of the institution.

In terms of measurable compensation, schools can offer candidates higher salaries, more lab space, more start-up funding, and lighter teaching loads. Each school also has intangible benefits it brings to the table, such as a desirable geographical location, high perception of prestige, friendly/congenial atmosphere, and access to better instrumentation. These are much harder to control—capital improvements can take years, cultural changes in a department can take decades, and geographical changes will almost never occur. Finally, there are also “negative” tools that departments can use, like peer pressure. (Yes, this actually happens.)

At the end of the day, the schools with the most money and prestige usually have the advantage. They can offer the candidates better financial packages, access to better facilities, more talented pools of students, and better brand names. These schools can also go after established superstars. For instance, Harvard is well known for recruiting talented professors from “rival” departments.

We see plenty of analogies in major sports. Successful teams in big markets, like the New York Yankees and Manchester United F.C., are more successful at attracting superstar players because they can offer them more money and historically better chances of contending for championships. Less successful teams in smaller markets find themselves having to scout less established players in hopes that one of them pans out. The upside, of course, is that they spend less money on player contracts.

What are some of the tools that smaller departments use? The first one is timing. Schools with fewer resources typically conduct their interviews and make subsequent offers earlier in the hiring cycle than the more prestigious schools. In doing so, the smaller departments apply pressure to the candidates they have targeted. The hope is that these candidates will accept a position instead of waiting for offers from better schools and risking not getting hired at all. Sometimes, the candidates must decide whether to accept offers before they’ve even finished all of their other interviews.

A second tool that smaller schools can use is what we saw happen in the case of Princeton: you can go after younger talent. Again, we see the same thing in sports. Perennially decent teams with lower positions in the draft will gamble on underclassmen (or even high schoolers) that they probably would have no shot at drafting as college seniors. It is often the case that departments don’t wait for young talent to come to them. Instead, they gather intelligence and invite prospective talent to apply.

The issue of hiring young talent in sports has prompted massive debate. Should academia should consider the same questions? How young is too young? Will young talent develop better in college (a postdoc) or in the pros (as an assistant professor)? Many national governments and leagues (e.g., NBA and EPL) have passed legislation preventing teams from “robbing the cradle,” an action that speaks to the importance of the issue.

So, will we see more early hires? I wouldn’t be surprised. What actually surprises me is that we haven’t already seen more.

The Tangential Details and Related Public Perception

At this point, I believe that I have sufficiently established the legitimacy and importance of the story. It would be remiss of me if I did not address the somewhat provocative tangential details that were raised in the discussion threads. I’m not here to make any judgments or add to either the concern or praise (let’s not forget that there was lots of it) expressed in the comments. I think it is self-evident that, as David Reichman put it, “NO CHEMISTRY DEPARTMENT HIRES SOMEONE BECAUSE THEIR MOTHER IS THE PRESIDENT OF ANOTHER UNIVERSITY OR BECAUSE THEIR PARENTS USED TO BE FACULTY MEMBERS IN A UNRELATED DEPARTMENT.” In the same vein, I’ll reprint part of an excellent comment left by Slapshot:

2) Proposals
Evaluating a potential prof candidate solely on the available info (published papers and rumors) is also very silly indeed. The most important thing for a department are the ideas the incoming new person brings to the table — the awesome, new, outside-the-box chemistry the person proposes to do. If someone is eager and ready to the mental work of a prof coming out of grad school — they better get the chance to it before they realize they can take their brains and jump ship to a hedge fund. Talk about bad for science. Seriously, why waste time in a post-doc running more columns and learning how to run a gel or a laser if you don’t need to do that to do your chemistry???

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3) The person in question.
I don’t know for sure but have heard from friends at Harvard and Stanford that this person is absolutely stellar scientifically and also that she’s super nice. Really, based on the amazing things I’ve heard I wasn’t surprised to see the link above to the Princeton seminar series page. But… that’s just a seminar. To get an offer you have to have much more than a couple of JACS papers and good talk. You have to be brilliant, see (2).

That said, there is an interesting general point we should explore regarding the importance of “whom you know” in terms of finding jobs. While it won’t be 100% responsible for getting an offer, can having friends or well-connected professors help you get a foot in the door? Do some professors “go to bat” for their students more than others? If so, is that “unfair”? Does it partially erode the perception of meritocracy if everyone is not subjected to the same application process?

It’s no secret that some advisors have better track records in terms of their students finding academic positions at good schools. Why is this? Is it better letters of recommendation, better contacts, more encouragement to apply for academic jobs, better research, better training? Along the same lines, some schools (Harvard is one) seem to disproportionately hire alumni of the school. Is this a coincidence? I don’t know, but again, you can point to a number of possible confounding factors.

Regarding the hiring of female assistant professors, I think we can all agree that the under-representation of female professors in the sciences has schools especially intent on hiring qualified female candidates. This focus was intensified following the professional lynching of Larry Summers, and every issue of C&EN has classified ads that end with something akin to “University of X is an Equal Opportunity/Affirmative Action Employer and applications from women and underrepresented minority group members are especially encouraged.” Without delving into a discussion of the merits of affirmative action, we must accept that affirmative action is now endorsed across most of our field. The reality is that it’s both a blessing and a curse, because while more minority candidates will be hired, there will also be more people who think that anytime a minority is hired it’s just because they’re a minority. Regardless, it will be interesting to see if schools make recruiting minority graduate students a key tool in diversifying their faculties, especially in the sciences.

The Experimental Nature of the “Princeton Post”

A few commenters asked why I brought up this specific story if I just wanted to talk about postdocs and hiring practices. Well, this piece of news is what drew my attention to the subject. It is a fact of life that interesting discussions are almost always started by stories in the news. It took 9/11 to direct more attention to terrorism. It took global warming to direct the world’s attention to carbon emissions. It took Christopher Reeve’s accident to direct national attention to spinal cord research. If we speak purely in hypothetical terms without any basis in reality, fewer people are going to care. There is nothing unfair or irresponsible about examining hiring practices in the context of the Princeton news.

A number of commenters also took umbrage at how I approached this story and these issues in a sort of “open thread.” Some of the people who agree that these issues are worthy of discussion and analysis believe that I should have provided more direction to focus the discussion. In hindsight, I am inclined to agree. When I originally wrote this post, I was under the impression that more people were aware of the news. Quite a few people brought it up in discussions around here and word had traveled outside of the department. Most news is reported on ChemBark juxtaposed with my take on the subject. That creates a bias that influences the ensuing discussion. I thought this was the perfect opportunity to see what happens when I don’t bias the presentation of information, but allow commenters on “equal footing” with each other to bring out the news and discuss it themselves. I clearly labeled the post as an experiment and asked commenters to be civil and analytical. Obviously, some weren’t.

I’ll regard the experiment as a failed success. It was successful in that it succeeded in sparking a spirited discussion where we were actually discussing important issues. And for the first time, a professor at a top-ten department chose to leave a signed comment. That said, the success was overshadowed by a number of negative aspects, some of which were a direct result of the “experimental” method of presentation. While the news eventually took control of the threads, it took 48 comments to get on track. From that point, there was a mix of interesting comments, vapid comments, insulting comments, and utter garbage. Obviously, not all readers can be trusted to be civil in the comments. I’m learning here and will adapt accordingly. In this regard, I appreciate when people voice their opinions on how to improve this site, even if it is in the form of rude and threatening comments directed at me.

ChemBark as a Chemical News Medium

ChemBark is many things. It is part serious. It is part silly. It is a place people come to read about important issues in our field. It is a place people come to make jokes and have fun. Much like a newspaper has a front page and a comics section, ChemBark has posts that lie on different levels of seriousness. The unifying theme is that they all have something to do with chemistry.

Clearly, bona fide chemistry news falls within the purview of this blog, and the fact that some posts contain original reporting is one of the biggest reasons people come to this site. The “news” at ChemBark extends beyond commentary on research reports into areas like the political, cultural, ethical, and managerial aspects of research in chemistry. When discussing these topics, I steer clear of discussing personal information that is irrelevant or of little relevance to any larger story. I know a lot of you know or want to know about things like chemists’ places of residence, sexual orientation, romantic affairs, and other sensitive personal business. I don’t discuss such information here.

I enjoy writing posts, and part of this enjoyment comes from being able to use the blog to draw attention to issues that I think are interesting and merit discussion. I have limited time to devote to the site, so I generally focus on issues and stories that have been overlooked by the more traditional media. There is no need for me to post on things that are already covered somewhere else. That’s why there aren’t many reviews of research papers here. If you want to read about research, you can open JACS or Angewandte and read the original reports. For coverage of most of the significant events in the world of chemistry, you can crack open your weekly copy of C&EN.

Of course, publications like C&EN and Chemistry World usually limit themselves to stories that portray our field in a positive light. Unfortunately, not all of the aspects of research in chemistry are positive. There will always be matters of scientific misconduct, ethical dilemmas, dirty politics, misappropriated funds, and petty bickering. These sorts of issues are pervasive in our community and we should not feel ashamed to learn about them and discuss them. Part of the job of the media is to serve as a watchdog. Despicable acts like scientific misconduct merit coverage and significant follow-up attention. It is sad that the paper media in our field either don’t share this view or don’t have the time, money, space, or inclination to apply constant pressure and get to the bottom of things. It is ridiculous to think that ChemBark is contributing to a problem or doing more harm than good when we report on a negative or provocative story. No scientist should feel that ignorance is bliss or that discussing interesting news is counterproductive.

Finally, let me also point out that there are plenty of positive posts on ChemBark, too (1 2 3 4 5). A lot of people conveniently forget that.

ChemBark as a Venue for Analysis and Discussion

It is one thing for me to post news or analysis, but unlike with traditional media, on a blog, all readers have the chance to respond and start a discussion. ChemBark is not just a publication, it’s a community.

As Josh Finkelstein, a senior editor at Nature, said in the latest Nature Chemistry Podcast, “Chemists are generally quite social animals.” The problem is that for many important “hot button” issues, the only places you can find these discussions are around water coolers or over lunch tables—venues that are closed to the public. Why not discuss these issues on a bigger scale? That’s part of what ChemBark is about: being a water cooler for everyone who’s interested in discussing important chemical news. It doesn’t matter if you’re in a big department or a lone alchemist—anyone can participate.

I have accepted the fact that there will be bumps in the road as I try to steer ChemBark to becoming a respectable place for discussion about technical and cultural issues in chemistry. Due to the lack of transparency in our field and the concentration of power in a small elite class, we are fighting a massive activation barrier in reaching that goal. We live under a cloud of fear. Students fear their advisors. Professors fear their colleagues. Authors fear their reviewers. Reviewers fear revenge. People don’t want to run the risk of being honest and upsetting someone because they think it will come back to bite them…and they might be right. Long gone are the days when chemists would intellectually spar over fascinating research with little regard for anything but the truth. Grizzled physical organic chemists still sing songs of the epic battles over nonclassical carbocations (the followers of Winstein vs. the followers of Brown). Although tempers often flared and feelings were often hurt, there is no question that these debates pushed the field to improve its experiments and solve the problem.

But, like I said, those days are gone. Now, if we want our culture to change, the progress will have to be slow and steady. If ChemBark falls too far outside of the current cultural norms, people will just ignore it. I manage ChemBark accordingly. First, I favor depth in coverage as opposed to breadth. Only a small percentage of the posts on ChemBark are “hot button” topics. If I came out with guns blazing against every problem and injustice in the world of chemistry, this site would be viewed as a joke. Second, while I would like for everyone to feel safe in signing their names to their comments, I realize that this is going to take some time. While I comment using my real name, I allow anonymous comments because not granting anonymity would stifle any sort of meaningful discussion. The trade off, of course, is that there’s an element of hypocrisy in how ChemBark seeks to be an “open forum” but allows people to hide behind anonymous screen names. Last, I realize that I’m a lowly graduate student with zero clout or power in our field. The “Paul Bracher” brand name is worth nothing, and correspondingly, offers this blog nothing. The only way that I can build credibility for this site is to manage it responsibly by being fair and addressing issues in a professional manner—especially the controversial ones.

One philosophical stand that I’ve made is to allow nearly complete freedom of speech in the comments. The comments are a big part of this site and we’ve already seen how great comments can be informative and thought provoking. This is exactly the reason that the comments exist. As I agree with Potter Stewart that censorship “is the hallmark of an authoritarian regime,” the only comments I delete are spam and those that stray so recklessly deep into personal ground that the information is both offensive and worthless. I welcome you to identify comments that you think should be deleted.

A consequence of all this leeway is that comments will sometimes venture into areas that hurt people’s feelings. Sometimes, commenters crack hurtful jokes. Sometimes, completely legitimate comments hit a little “too close to home.” I am resigned to the fact that providing an open forum will inevitably mean that “good” people will occasionally be hit with shrapnel, but getting mad at me for these comments is like getting mad at your department’s administration for funding social hours and parties. After all, people come to these events and discuss rumors and crack insulting jokes. At the same time, plenty of people participate in intelligent, thought-provoking conversations. The comments that rub you the wrong way are the price we pay for all of the “good things” that the freedom of commentary brings.

What you should remember is that—ChemBark or no ChemBark—these conversations are still taking place behind closed doors. I personally think the “open” system afforded by blogs is better than the “closed” system that is currently in operation. First, the closed system is unfair to the individuals being discussed because not only can they not defend themselves, they have no idea they are even a subject of discussion. On ChemBark, everyone has access to the same information and can either choose to join the discussion or just observe. The current system affords no such courtesy. Second, the current system is inefficient. With a select few individuals holding these discussions, there are fewer brains actively analyzing what is going on. When you open the discussion to the entire community, everyone can raise points and learn from it.

One aspect of the comments that probably goes overlooked is that I am one of the biggest losers as far as allowing anonymous commenting is concerned. First, I receive the “blame” for many of these anonymous comments because I am the one who provides the open forum. Second, many (most?) anonymous attacks on this blog are leveled at me. Some commenters have attacked me using multiple user names to make it seem that the dissatisfaction is widespread. Third, people comment anonymously to mask perceived conflicts of interest. For instance, by their IP addresses, I know that some of the attacks leveled at me come from friends and colleagues of people discussed in news stories. If you knew that at the time, you would probably reduce the weight of their opinion relative to an unbiased casual observer. Still, I allow the comments to stay and don’t “out” the people who left them. While I don’t dish out anonymous vitriol, I take more of it than anyone.

Getting back to the “hot button” issues discussed on ChemBark, do we have to discuss these topics? The simple answer is “yes.” A lot of Web 2.0 efforts that should enjoy success are initially doomed for failure because they are too restrictive. There is already a resistance in our field, for whatever reason, to embracing Web 2.0 technology. Since we are already attracting a small number of people, it would be stupid to further discourage participation by requiring registration, banning anonymous comments, narrowing the scope to ridiculously specific subsets of our field, or attempting to cater to too many people by barring discussion of interesting but provocative issues.

I think it’s also fair to say that most of the opinions expressed on ChemBark regarding provocative issues are actually representative of more widely-held opinions in our field. For instance, I think the outrage expressed in the blogosphere over the Sames-Sezen situation mirrored that in the world of research. I think it is also clear that views in the blogosphere have shaped, to a degree, some of the stories run in C&EN, Chemistry World, Science, and Nature. Aside from the SSS, opinions expressed in the blogosphere regarding the 2007 Nobel Prize (1 2) were reported in the print edition of Nature. I don’t think the editors would have done this if our views were not representative of a larger population of chemists.

I’d like to think that ChemBark is doing some good things and that it is not simply a “time sink” blog, as one commenter put it. I am pleasantly surprised that the site receives a lot of Google traffic for technical questions, like the general procedure for HATU coupling. There is clearly an audience for technical information in chemical blogspace. I am also encouraged that people refer visitors to ChemBark’s discussions of cultural issues in our field, like the order of authors on papers or how to improve peer review. Where else can you find analyses of these issues that are open and accessible to all who wish to voice their opinion? And as far as humor is concerned, I would hope that people appreciate and enjoy the posts and comments on ChemBark that are made in jest. You guys crack me up, and I thank you for it.

Risk Management

A question that is occasionally raised in comments is whether ChemBark could damage my prospects for a career in chemistry. It is something I have considered at great length, and I have arrived at the unsurprising conclusion that running this blog has the potential to both help and hurt me. ChemBark is a genuine reflection of my personality because I have elected to run the site in as honest and straightforward a manner as possible. I use my real name, strive for 100% factual accuracy, and openly share my personal opinions and the reasons behind them. The downside of sharing all of this information is that some people will be turned off by my personality and opinions. For example, I get the distinct impression that some of you do not appreciate my frankness and willingness to explore politically incorrect questions. I suppose this could hurt my chances of landing a job in some places, but I’d rather miss out on these jobs than be hired and have to pretend that I’m someone I’m not.

On the flip side, there is also the small prospect that this blog could end up helping my career. On the off chance that potential employers stumble across ChemBark, I would hope to come across as reasonably intelligent, creative, logical, and someone who loves chemistry, loves teaching, and cares about the managerial aspects of research (advising, administration, ethics, etc.). It should also be noted that ChemBark and its predecessor have damn good track records of finding interesting stories and getting the facts right. At times, we may have even outclassed the coverage of C&EN, Science, Nature, and the New York Times. The commentary on ChemBark, while opinionated, is kept as clinical as possible. I don’t swear. I don’t launch personal or ad hominem attacks. I take the time to substantiate my opinions with facts and reason, and I provide an open forum for public dissent should anyone wish to disagree. What news medium publishes every single piece of correspondence the editors receive, including attacks against them which are untrue and personally insulting?

I also want to address the concern that my candor could result in the ultimate demise of this site:

I’m kind of annoyed that no one else besides Paul was willing to say anything after this. Are we afraid someone will pull the plug, Trost-style?

Rest assured; there is only one person who can “pull the plug” on this site—me. One of the things I enjoy about ChemBark is that it’s something over which I have complete editorial control. I can ensure that the site addresses issues I feel are important and adheres to the principles I espouse in life because I run everything. In the future, it may become necessary for me to either suspend or terminate my participation on ChemBark. Should that happen, I will give you a full report on the reasons necessitating the action. In the meantime, everyone deserves a hobby, and ChemBark is mine.

Concluding Remarks

In theory, academia exists to enhance our understanding of the world. Critical examination and honesty should take precedence over personal advancement, popularity, pride, and political correctness. We should not fear starting discussions about interesting news, ideas, and theories simply because the scrutiny may stray into areas where people will have their ideas challenged or feelings hurt. Sadly, in the current politicized climate of chemical research, many chemists are resigned to an existence where speaking critically and honestly is limited to the shadows cast by privacy and anonymity. Such a system is shamefully inefficient, and as scientists, we should seek alternatives that allow us to embrace our analytical roots and thoughtfully examine our lives.

Reaching that goal is a big part of what ChemBark is all about. In the meantime, if I don’t get back to acting like I don’t take this blog that seriously, everyone is going to get upset.

It’s time for a little experiment. Allow me to apologize in advance for being so cryptic in this post, but I want to observe how the discussion here proceeds without any interference from me.

In the last several weeks, a number of people have brought to my attention a fascinating story relating to careers in academia. Not since the SSS have I heard people voice such strong opinions on a subject that falls squarely in the arena of scientific culture and politics. I believe the story merits discussion and analysis, just because it is so atypical of “standard operating procedure.” Who knows? Maybe the SOP is changing?

Anyway, since this story seems to be well known to the community already, I thought that you all could have first crack at it without hearing my opinion first. I’m sitting this thread out…at least, to begin with. To start the discussion, I’ll throw out a single word and the guidance that it is a story that has not even been tangentially discussed on this blog before today. Keep the discussion civil, but feel free to voice your opinion. Be sure to use proper grammar, especially if you have no idea what’s going on and are just leaving some random insult directed at me.

Now, the word: Princeton.

More than a few of the posts I’ve made in the recent past are kind of depressing. Things like scientific misconduct, atrocious teaching, over-hyping mundane results, and slimy departmental politics are an unfortunate part of the chemical landscape and merit commentary. On the other hand, I don’t want to leave anyone with the impression that I think the world of chemistry is bankrupt of joy. To the contrary, there are lots of things that keep me excited about our field. Here are just a few of them:

1. Chemistry works. There is an incredible amount of reliable, fundamental work in our field. The thrill of a reaction that you’ve only seen on paper actually working in the lab never gets old.

2. Chemistry has substantially improved life. Chemicals are everywhere doing all sorts of useful stuff. From materials to detergents to lubricants to drugs, chemical technology has solved an astounding number of problems for humanity.

3. Chemistry is not too complicated. There is so much craziness in biology—so many variables, so many things to go wrong—that a lot of the time you end up having to play a numbers game to understand if what you’re doing has any significance. Chemical experiments, on the other hand, are much easier to characterize and follow. There is something satisfying about being able to keep tabs on what’s going on.

4. Chemistry has got to be the basis for figuring out a number of important unsolved problems. The greatest historical question of all time is how life originated on Earth four billion years ago. That is all but certainly a chemical problem. The greatest technological problem of our time is finding an environmentally-friendly solution to our energy needs. This is all but certainly a chemical problem. Don’t let anyone tell you that all the interesting chemistry has been done already.

5. The vast majority of chemists behave ethically. Fortunately, the fraction of posts on this blog about scientific misconduct dwarfs the fraction of crooked chemists in our field.

6. There are good teachers among us. I’ve lamented how many professors and grad students don’t take their teaching responsibilities seriously, but on the flip side, there are a number of fantastic teachers in our field. This goes beyond basic instruction in the classroom to include those who take time on the research side to develop their students into good scientists.

7. The chemical world is largely a meritocracy. Yes, there are people at the top who pull strings with editors to get their “bad” science into good journals, but if you do “good” science, it will get published and catch on. At the end of the day, there is no substitute for good ideas, reproducible results, and talent.

8 through 10 (and beyond). The Simple Pleasures. See here.

I’m sure I’m missing some good reasons chemistry rocks, but that’s not the point. The point is that despite the occasional sour taste of some of the posts here, the above list trumps everything. I’ll keep a link to this post on my desktop for the next time I lose the will to live.

• The ACS announced this week that Gabor Somorjai is the 2008 Priestley Medalist. The award is well deserved, but I was kind of surprised to see two surface scientists get it back-to-back. Since this year’s Nobel Committee for Chemistry seems stacked towards the physical side of the field, will 2007 be the year the surface crowd hits paydirt?
• .
• The Class of 2007 graduated from Harvard this week and left its report card for each “concentration” (that’s Hahvahd speak for “major”). The CCB department had a poor showing: Chemistry placed in the bottom half of the table with 3.69/5.00 (20th of 31) and Biochemical Sciences fared even worse (3.27, 27th). Earth and Planetary Sciences (5.00) earned a spot in the Champions’ League by topping the table, while Biology (3.06) finished dead last and faces relegation.
• .
• Dr. Free-Ride (who was extensively quoted in a recent issue of C&EN) at Adventures in Ethics and Science has an interesting pair of posts about the consequences of graduate students’ blowing the whistle on fraudulent research. Post #1 is based on a news story in Science about probable scientific misconduct by a geneticist at Wisconsin. Post #2 is Dr. Free-Ride’s analysis of the current system. Both posts are good reads—read post #2 even if you don’t give a lick about scientific misconduct.

Money makes the world go ’round, and the research world is no different.  Chemical and pharmaceutical companies exist to make a profit, so they will explore lines of investigation not because they are interesting, but because they are rewarding.  This purpose does not make these companies inherently evil—they simply value profit above everything else.  We have to accept this fact and make sure that we pass laws to protect the public from harmful and unethical business practices.  Part of the reason these laws are effective is that they provide a financial disincentive for undesired behavior.

In the academic world, our thirst for knowledge should be greater than that for cash, but we have all seen examples of departments choosing to tenure professors who rake in money over those who are excellent educators. Of course, who can blame them?  Schools need money to exist and funding is easy to measure, whereas scholarship, mentorship, and teaching ability are not.

Despite the fact that they are difficult to quantify, these “intangibles” can still be examined in financial terms.  Students pay tuition, so when you accept a teaching position, you owe it to them to do a good job.  What counts as a “good job” will always be a subject of debate, but knowingly slacking off in your teaching duties is despicable behavior.  When a grad-student TA proudly decides that teaching is not something to be taken seriously, he is cheating his students and their families out of their hard-earned money.  Of course, there are many other reasons to take teaching seriously, but I think the monetary aspect is lost on many of the proudest slackers.

In the lab, we must remember that we are the stewards of the taxpayers’ money.  Whether you are paid by a fellowship or off of a grant, you owe the public a good job in return for your stipend.  This includes maintaining a respectable work schedule and upholding the ethical standards of our profession.  Fortunately, most of us enjoy our work and are proud to defend our profession against those who would damage its reputation for personal gain, financial or otherwise.  Researchers who engage in scientific misconduct show a callous lack of respect for science and profound disregard for the sanctity of taxpayer money.  Those who commit fraud—and those who are grossly negligent in their responsibility to police the activities of their employees—should be charged criminally, punished by the government, and dismissed from their institutions.

Beyond the truly loathsome individuals among us who lie about or misrepresent their results, I also get upset with researchers who win grants for one set of ideas, then spend the money on projects that are not just tangential, but completely different.  To me, this smacks of obtaining funding under false pretenses, and I consider it to be dishonest behavior.  If someone offers you money to work in an area, either use it to do what you said you would do or decline the offer.  At the very least, you should contact the funding agency to disclose your intentions and make sure they are acceptable.  A famous professor here has been chided by students and colleagues alike for returning unused portions of his grant money back to the funding agencies upon completion of a project.  While this practice is viewed by many as an incredible waste of an opportunity, there is definitely something gallant about his honesty and sense of responsibility to the public.  For the record, I would have no problems with his using the remaining balance to improve his students’ efficiency by purchasing new equipment—it would probably be better for his lab to use the money instead of it getting distributed to someone else.  Still, I respect his choice.  Government funding should not be viewed as an entitlement to the scientific community. We must earn our keep and prove that it is in society’s best interest to continue to fund our work. We live in a democracy—a government of the people—and correspondingly, we owe it to everyone to spend their money in a responsible manner.

I try to be on my best financial behavior when in lab.  While in many labs at Harvard it seems like we have a limitless supply of grant money, it irks me to see people waste it.  I try not to waste time on the NMR instruments.  I try not to leave the HPLC pumps running longer than necessary.  I shut off UV lamps.  I shut off lights. I always search for the best prices on chemicals and supplies.  (With the ease-of-use of the Available Chemicals Database, there is really no excuse not to.)  Occasionally, I undertake projects like rounding up empty nitrogen cylinders in our lab and returning them (they cost us $3/month, each, to rent).  Does any of this make a difference?  I hope so.  Is it a big one?  Probably not.

Despite my best intentions, there are still times when I cheat.  I use solvents to clean stains from personal belongings.  I use bits of dry ice to blow up microcentrifuge tubes.  When pulling spotters, I warp a few Pasteur pipettes with the Bunsen burner because it is fun.  I rationalize these perks by thinking about how much money I’ve spent on office supplies for research and how many articles of clothing I’ve lost in the name of science, but I realize that these considerations don’t make my indiscretions right.  Still, my violations equate to jaywalking where the crimes described above amount to first-degree murder.

At the end of the day, my guiding principle is simple: If reports of my behavior were to become public, would I be embarrassed?  If someone were to step forward and describe my actions that day, in explicit detail, would I be proud of myself?  Could I defend my conduct without feeling dirty or guilty doing so?  Thinking back over my days in chemistry, I can’t think of any event of which I would truly be ashamed.  Don’t get me wrong: I’ve made mistakes—tons of them—but they were all honest mistakes.

Sadly, I think we all know of individuals in our field who could not make the same claim.

Don’t become one of them. 

Sorry to get all “meta” on you guys again, but I think this is somewhat interesting. There are four basic types of posts on this blog. The first are those that deal with the “nuts and bolts” of chemistry. These posts usually include chemical structures, schemes, and links to papers. The second are those that deal with the cultural aspects of chemistry—things like chemical history, lab management, departmental politics, and ethics. The third are posts that deal with blog housekeeping and the Internet, and the fourth are silly posts that have little intellectual value.

All four varieties deal with chemistry, although some misguided readers and commenters believe that only type-I posts qualify as chemical ones. I don’t feel inclined at the moment to explain to these people that the way chemical research gets done encompasses more than molecules and reaction conditions, so if you share their parochial attitude, I suggest that you find a different blog to read.

That said, I have tried to make an effort to incorporate more type-I material here. Back on April Fools’ Day, I posted three synthetic procedures as a homage to the great Org Prep Daily: amide coupling using HATU, methyl ester hydrolysis using LiOH, and a porphyrin preparation based on the work of J.S. Lindsey. That day saw some of the heaviest traffic in the history of ChemBark, and in the subsequent month, this site has gotten a significant number of hits (well over 100) based on searches directly related to these reactions. In fact, ChemBark comes up on the first page of results when you google “HATU”, “amide bond formation”, “methyl ester deprotection”, or “porphyrin synthesis”.

To me, it comes as no surprise that a lot of people are doing their literature searches using Google. SciFinder can be a pain in the butt sometimes, and more often that not, I find that the number of site licenses here are maxed out when I want to use it. On the other hand, Google is free, requires no special software, and is great for finding ubiquitous things like sample procedures for amide couplings. What surprises me is that of all the places that Google could have sent users, so many of them landed here. This either means that only a few sites are posting the information people are looking for or that there are a lot of people searching for this information. Maybe I should go back to the April Fools’ Day posts and insert references to score some cheap citations?

While surfing around chemistry pages, I often wonder why some professors put so much effort into traveling on the lecture circuit yet never think to spend time updating their own Web sites. It would seem that one of the main purposes of jetting around the world to present your research is to inform the community about your most recent results and convince them that what you are doing is interesting and valuable. Based on two days worth of travel, you “touch” an average of 50-250 people that are in your audience. In contrast, tens of thousands of chemists have access to the Internet, and Google will drive the ones who are especially interested in your field to your site. Why not spend a couple of hours jotting down synopses of your work in HTML?

And I imagine that if more professors blogged, they could easily establish online communities of experts that would process information more efficiently than anything else going. If a grad student can create a blog that attracts a couple of thousand readers a day, a big-name professor surely would attract ten times the traffic. That said, old habits die hard.  It might take a couple generations before online forums become as popular as today’s scientific talks and conferences, but it is going to happen. I have no doubt about that.

Back in February, I caught the two-hour NOVA special on the life of Percy Julian.  I’ll give it 3.5 stars out of 5.  Julian’s story is really interesting, and amazingly, the producers did an exceptional job of conveying the excitement of research in organic chemistry.  While it gets a little slow towards the end, the program is well worth watching.

When I first heard about the episode, I was skeptical.  Part of me was upset that of all the excellent chemists in the history of chemistry, Percy Julian was picked to be featured on TV.  When faced with the decision to select one chemist to represent our profession, most of us would pick a legend like Woodward or Pauling.  So, I sat there asking myself, “Why does Julian deserve to hold the torch for chemistry on television?”

Adding more fuel to the fire was that the program was titled “Forgotten Genius”.  Given the circumstances of it being Black History Month, the obvious implication was that society had “forgotten” about Julian because he was black.  Also, “genius” is a word that is probably used more frequently than is warranted.  Both of these editorial statements in the title kind of put me on the attack before the program even aired.  On the plus side, the potential for controversy definitely piqued my interest.

After watching the program, I came out with a much more favorable opinion than I had going in.  The producers did a fantastic job of showing that Julian was an excellent chemist and an amazing man.  Any argument to the contrary is simply untenable.  Here’s a quick rundown of his credentials: He grew up in the Jim Crow South and tenaciously pursued his education into college, where excelled in his courses by finishing first in his class at DePauw. He gained admission to Harvard for graduate study, but had to leave with a master’s degree due to his inability to secure a teaching fellowship because of his race.  After completing a Ph.D. overseas, he set up a lab at DePauw, where he beat Sir Robert Robinson to the total synthesis of physostigmine and embarrassed the synthetic legend in the process. Despite his credentials, Julian was unable to secure a job at Depauw or in industry because he was black.  Eventually, he was offered a position at Glidden.  There, he directed the Soya Products Division, and his discoveries of uses for soy mirrored everything that George Washington Carver is celebrated for with the peanut, and more. Julian made important contributions to total synthesis, steroid chemistry, and materials chemistry.  After Glidden terminated its steroid work, Julian moved on to start his own chemical company, where he challenged the Syntex monopoly in front of Congress and won.  And as if all of these achievements weren’t impressive enough, Julian accomplished them in the face of an appalling amount of racism in both the chemical establishment and the Chicago community.

Simply amazing.  I knew parts of his story, but most of the details were completely new to me.  While I got more than my money’s worth, even at the end, the title “Forgotten Genius” left a sour taste in my mouth.  Personally, I hadn’t “forgotten” about Julian—I never really knew his story.  While society may have forgotten about him, Julian is hardly unique in this regard.  Our society didn’t forget about Percy Julian because we’re racist, but because he worked in chemistry and in industry, where the credit is spread more thinly. How many industrial chemists can the general public name?  I’m a chemist, and while I didn’t know that Percy Julian developed soy into fire suppressants at Glidden, I still don’t know the names of the scientists who invented pressure-sensitive adhesives at 3M, nor the people who developed Viagra at Pfizer.  These are remarkable achievements, but aside from Carothers, Plunkett, and Derek Lowe, I’m at a loss to name more than a handful of industrial chemists whom I don’t know personally.

As for my initial reaction to Julian being chosen over Woodward or Pauling, perhaps my problem was that I watched this program as an insider wanting the fundamental history of chemistry to be told, whereas most viewers probably tuned in to be entertained.  After giving the issue more thought, it occurred to me that Julian is a much better person to present to the general public than someone like Woodward.  While we appreciate RBW’s accomplishments as experts, his creativity would be very hard to convey to a lay audience.  Contrast that with the achievements of Julian, whose crosses to bear are much more obvious and easy for the general public to relate to. 

Indeed, with a few exceptions (like presidential addresses and debates), the main purpose of television programs is to get ratings—even on PBS.  The purpose of television is not to give credit to deserving chemists or to educate the public.  Percy Julian’s story was compelling and perfect for Black History Month. In this regard, it was a win for NOVA, but it was also a win for chemistry.  For one night, the show made our science seem exciting and relevant, though perhaps elitist and inaccessible.  Even with those minor drawbacks, we should take what we can get.  Chemists are simply awful at promoting chemistry to the general public. Contrast this with physics, where Einstein is a God, cosmology has fueled countless sci-fi series like Star Trek, and Stephen Hawking, Brian Greene, Neil deGrasse Tyson appear on TV left and right. Who is the face of chemistry? For all the good that chemistry does in the world, all we get is bad press in the form of chemical spills, plant explosions, weapons of mass destruction, hazardous waste, and editorials on how drug companies are evil and oil companies make too much money.  Even the word “chemical” has a negative connotation.  While one TV show on PBS won’t fix our problem, recounting the stories of some “chemical heroes” will go a long way.  NOVA made an excellent choice in Julian.  Now, will other chemists follow or is this party over?

Scientists have been pretty good about developing standards to ease communication across scientific disciplines, but we have yet to decide on a standard protocol for determining the order of authors on papers. Since papers are widely regarded as the principal metric of scholarly achievement, maybe it’s time we did.

If you asked anyone what position they’d want in an author list, the general consensus would be first. Knowing nothing else about a paper, most of us would assume that the first author made the most important contributions. In the majority of chemistry labs, the first position is usually granted to the researcher who took primary responsibility for conducting experiments, writing the paper, and shepherding the project to completion. The remaining junior authors are usually listed in descending order of perceived scientific contribution, until you get to the principal investigator, who almost always goes last (1 2 3).

But making the above assumption can lead you astray, as that’s not the way all chemists do it.  Although it has become decreasingly common for the principal investigator to take first authorship (1 2 3), some young professors are continuing this trend.  It seems to be more common in organic synthesis than in other areas.  My understanding of this practice was that it simplified finding papers out of a particular research lab back when papers were sorted alphabetically in literature indexes.  While the advent of computerized literature searches has rendered this advantage obsolete, the practice of some PIs “going first” persists.  Perhaps it is simply a matter of tradition, or maybe a means of senior authors “protecting their brand,” since long author lists are usually shortened to “First Author, et al.”

What do other types of scientists do?  Astrophysicists list authors in descending order of contribution (1 2), which means that the advisor is usually the second author listed.  While this system seems the most fair to me, I can see how some bosses might lament the prospect of getting lost in long author lists.  When I’m scanning through ASAP alerts, after the title, I usually glance quickly at the end of the author list to see where the paper came from.  In this respect, the PI going first or last is rather convenient.  An astrophysics professor I talked to here said that he usually assumes that the last author on a paper was the guy who drove the rest of the team to the telescope.

While the practice of listing authors in alphabetical order is exceedingly rare in chemistry, it turns out to be standard protocol in the economics community (1 2 3). Does anyone else find it disturbing that, when left to their own devices, economists will revert to academic communism? Isn’t there something to be said for providing incentives for hard work?  Oh well.

Aside from author order, there is also the wacky issue of joint authorship. Sometimes author order assignments are so troublesome that people choose to indicate joint first-authorship. While it is occasionally seen in Angewandte Chemie, it has actually been banned from JACS:

JACS does not permit equal or partial authorship designations. JACS assumes that all authors have made substantial contributions to the work.

I’ve got no problem with having these notices of equal contribution; I’m not sure why JACS does.  The issue of joint authorship is so important to some authors that they actually published addition/correction notices to set the record straight (1 2).

Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t link to Jorge Cham’s Ph.D. comic strip that illustrates what the order of authors really means.  There’s more than a bit of truth in it.

So…what style do I advocate? First, any of the above styles is acceptable.  It’s a personal decision that is determined at the sole discretion of the PI.  So long as the community knows how each PI operates, there won’t be any problems.  That said, I like the PI-last format—with a twist.  With the PI-last ordering, the people in the trenches have added incentive to get papers out and the PI gets to stand out too. My twist is that I think the first pages of supporting information for any paper should contain a short summary of each author’s contributions. This way, anyone who wants to know who did what can find out.  The added detail would be a double-edged sword, because with each credited contribution comes the added burden of being responsible for the integrity of the data.  Assigning responsibility in this manner would make it harder for fraudsters and sloppy researchers to hide behind their colleagues.  Furthermore, I think this list should be followed by a signed statement from each author asserting that, to the best of his or her knowledge, the results are authentic, are accurate, and were obtained in an academically honest manner.  It would be naive to think that this simple change would solve all of our community’s problems, from inflated yields to outright fabrication, but it might make some people think twice about going down those roads.