Work life balance?

There is no perfect recipe to balance work and life in academic research. Everyone has to find their own optimal balance to derive fulfilment from life and work. Subject Categories: S&S: Careers & Training

A few years ago, a colleague came into my office, looking a little irate, and said, “I just interviewed a prospective student, and the first question was, ‘how is work‐life balance here?’”. Said colleague then explained how this question was one of his triggers. Actually, this sentiment isn''t unusual among many PIs. And, yet, asking about one''s expected workload is a fair question. While some applicants are actually coached to ask it at interviews, I think that many younger scientists have genuine concerns about whether or not they will have enough time away from the bench in order to have a life outside of work.In a nutshell, I believe there is no one‐size‐fits‐all definition of work–life balance (WLB). I also think WLB takes different forms depending on one''s career stage. As a new graduate student, I didn''t exactly burn the midnight oil; it took me a couple of years to get my bench groove on, but once I did, I worked a lot and hard. I also worked on weekends and holidays, because I wanted answers to the questions I had, whether it was the outcome of a bacterial transformation or the result from a big animal experiment. As a post‐doc, I worked similarly hard although I may have actually spent fewer hours at the bench because I just got more efficient and because I read a lot at home and on the six train. But I also knew that I had to do as much as I could to get a job in NYC where my husband was already a faculty member. The pressure was high, and the stress was intense. If you ask people who knew me at the time, they can confirm I was also about 30 pounds lighter than I am now (for what it''s worth, I was far from emaciated!).As an assistant professor, I still worked a lot at the bench in addition to training students and writing grant applications (it took me three‐plus years and many tears to get my first grant). As science started to progress, work got even busier, but in a good way. By no means did I necessarily work harder than those around me—in fact, I know I could have worked even more. And I’m not going to lie, there can be a lot of guilt associated with not working as much as your neighbor.My example is only one of millions, and there is no general manual on how to handle WLB. Everyone has their own optimal balance they have to figure out. People with children or other dependents are particularly challenged; as someone without kids, I cannot even fathom how tough it must be. Even with some institutions providing child care or for those lucky enough to have family take care of children, juggling home life with “lab life” can create exceptional levels of stress. What I have observed over the years is that trainees and colleagues with children become ridiculously efficient; they are truly remarkable. One of my most accomplished trainees had two children, while she was a post‐doc and she is a force to be reckoned with—although no longer in my laboratory, she still is a tour de force at work, no less with child number three just delivered! I think recruiters should view candidates with families as well—if not better—equipped to multi‐task and get the job done.There are so many paths one can take in life, and there is no single, “correct” choice. If I had to define WLB, I would say it is whatever one needs to do in order to get the work done to one''s satisfaction. For some people, putting in long days and nights might be what is needed. Does someone who puts in more hours necessarily do better than one who doesn''t, or does a childless scientist produce more results than one with kids? Absolutely not. People also have different goals in life: Some are literally “wedded” to their work, while others put much more emphasis on spending time with their families and see their children grow up. Importantly, these goals are not set in stone and can fluctuate throughout one''s life. Someone recently said to me that there can be periods of intense vertical growth where “balance” is not called for, and other times in life where it is important and needed. I believe this sentiment eloquently sums up most of our lives.Now that I''m a graying, privileged professor, I have started to prioritize other areas of life, in particular, my health. I go running regularly (well, maybe jog very slowly), which takes a lot of time but it is important for me to stay healthy. Pre‐pandemic, I made plans to visit more people in person as life is too short not to see family and friends. In many ways, having acquired the skills to work more efficiently after many years in the laboratory and office, along with giving myself more time for my health, has freed up my mind to think of science differently, perhaps more creatively. It seems no matter how much I think I’m tipping the balance toward life, work still creeps in, and that’s perfectly OK. At the end of the day, my work is my life, gladly, so I no longer worry about how much I work, nor do I worry about how much time I spend away from it. If you, too, accomplish your goals and derive fulfillment from your work and your life, neither should you.     

Biology lessons in times of COVID: The pandemic has forced educators to teach and instruct online with varying success and challenges

Since COVID‐19 hit last year, lecturers and professors have been exploring digital and other tools to teach and instruct their students. Subject Categories: S&S: Careers & Training, Methods & Resources

As Director of the Digital Pedagogy Lab at the University of Colorado in Denver, USA, Michael Sean Morris’ work took on new significance as the COVID‐19 pandemic hit campuses around the world. “What happened with the pandemic was a lot of people who weren''t accustomed to teaching online, or dealing with distance learning, or remote learning in any way, shape, or form, really tried to create a live classroom situation on their screen, mostly using Zoom or other similar technologies”, Morris said. “With technology now, we can do things which make us feel closer. So, we can do a Zoom; there can be synchronous chat in technologies like Slack, or discussion forums or what‐have‐you to make you feel like you''re closer, to make you feel like you''re sort of together at the same time. But the majority of online learning actually has been asynchronous, it''s been everyone coming in when they can and doing their work when they can”.Educators have been divided over the use of online learning. But this changed when a deadly pandemic forced everyone from kindergarten to university into digital spaces. Luckily, many digital tools, such as Zoom, Slack, Blackboard Collaborate, or WhatsApp, were available to enable the migration. Nonetheless, teachers, lecturers, and professors struggle to educate their students with knowledge and the hands‐on training that is paramount for teaching biology.

… teachers, lecturers and professors struggle to educate their students with knowledge and the hands‐on training that is paramount for teaching biology.

     

Dr. Manners

Good manners make a difference—in science and elsewhere. This includes our social media etiquette as researchers. Subject Categories: S&S: History & Philosophy of Science, Methods & Resources, S&S: Ethics

Elbows off the table, please. Don’t chew with your mouth open. Don’t blow your nose at the table. Don’t put your feet up on the chair or table. And please, do not yuck my yum. These are basic table manners that have come up at some of our lab meals, and I have often wondered if it was my job to teach my trainees social graces. A good fellow scientist and friend of mine once told me it was absolutely our place as mentors to teach our trainees not only how to do science well, but also how to be well‐mannered humans. While these Emily Post‐approved table manners might seem old‐fashioned (I’m guessing some readers will have to look up Emily Post), I strongly believe they still hold a place in modern society; being in good company never goes out of style.Speaking of modern society: upon encouragement by several of my scientist friends, I joined Twitter in 2016. My motivation was mainly to hear about pre‐prints and publications, conference announcements and relevant news, science or otherwise. I also follow people who just make me laugh (I highly recommend @ConanOBrien or @dog_rates). I (re)tweet job openings, conference announcements, and interesting new data. Occasionally, I post photos from conferences, or random science‐related art. I also appreciate the sense of community that social media brings to the table. However, social media is a venue where I have also seen manners go to die. Rapidly.It is really shocking to read what some people feel perfectly comfortable tweeting. While most of us can agree that foul language and highly offensive opinions are generally considered distasteful, there are other, subtler but nonetheless equally—if not more—cringe‐worthy offenses online when I am fairly certain these people would never utter such words in real life. In the era of pandemic, the existence of people tweeting about not being able to eat at their favorite restaurant or travel to some destination holiday because of lockdown shows an egregious lack of self‐awareness. Sure it sucks to cancel a wedding due to COVID‐19, but do you need to moan to your followers—most of whom are likely total strangers—about it while other people have lost their jobs? If I had a nickel for every first‐world complaint I have seen on Twitter, I’d have retired a long time ago; although to be honest, I would do science for free. However, these examples pale in comparison with another type of tweeter: Reader, I submit to you, “the Humblebragger.”From the MacMillan Buzzword dictionary (via Google): a humblebrag is “a statement in which you pretend to be modest but which you are really using as a way of telling people about your success or achievements.” I would further translate this definition to indicate that humblebraggers are starved for attention. After joining Twitter, I quickly found many people using social media to announce how “humble and honored” they are for receiving grant or prize X, Y, or Z. In general, these are junior faculty who have perhaps not acquired the self‐awareness more senior scientists have. Perhaps the most off‐putting posts I have seen are from people who post photos of their NIH application priority scores right after study section, or their Notice of Awards (NOA). When did we ever, before social media, send little notes to each other—let alone to complete strangers—announcing our priority scores or NOAs? (Spoiler: NEVER)Some of you reading this opinion piece might have humblebragged at one or time or another, and might not understand why it is distasteful. Please let me explain. For every person who gets a fundable score, there are dozens more people who do not, and they are sad (I speak from many years of experience). While said fundable‐score person might be by someone we like—and I absolutely, positively wish them well—there are many more people who will feel lousy because they did not get funding from the same review round. When has anyone ever felt good about other people getting something that they, too, desire? I think as children, none of us liked the kid on the playground who ran around with the best new Toy of the Season. As adults, do we feel differently? Along these lines, I have never been a fan of “best poster/talk/abstract” prizes. Trainees should not be striving for these fleeting recognitions and should focus on doing the best science for Science’s sake; I really believe this competition process sets people up for life in a negative way—there, I’ve said it.Can your friends and colleagues tweet about your honors? Sure, why not, and by all means please let your well‐wishers honor you, and do thank them and graciously congratulate your trainees or colleagues for helping you to get there. But to post things yourself? Please. Don’t be surprised if you have been muted by many of your followers.It is notable that many of our most decorated scientists are not on Twitter, or at least never tweet about their accomplishments. I do not recall ever seeing a single Nobel laureate announce how humbled and honored they are about their prize. Of course, I might be wrong, but I am willing to bet the numbers are much lower than what I have observed for junior faculty. True humility will never be demonstrated by announcing your achievements to your social media followers, and I believe humblebragging reveals insecurity more than anything. I hope that many more of us can follow the lead of our top scientists both in creativity, rigor, and social media politeness.     

Finding autophagy: It’s a question of how you look at it

To tell the truth, I find it difficult to work when flying, or even when sitting in an airport for an extended period of time. So, typically I take along a book to read. And when I truly cannot concentrate, for example when a flight is considerably delayed, I have even been known to resort to word puzzles. Depending on the type, they do not require much attention (that is, you can pick up right where you left off after you glance at the flight status screen for the twentieth or so time, even though you know nothing has changed), or effort (although you need to use a pen or pencil, not a keyboard), but nonetheless they can keep your mind somewhat occupied. I even rationalize doing them based on the assumption that they are sharpening my observational/pattern-finding skills. One type of word puzzle that is particularly mindless, but for that very reason I still enjoy in the above circumstances, is a word search; you are given a grid with letters and/or numbers, and a list of “hidden” terms, and you circle them within the grid, crossing them off the list as you go along. I do admit that the categories of terms used in the typical word searches can become rather mundane (breeds of dog, types of food, words that are followed by “stone,” words associated with a famous movie star, words from a particular television show, etc.). Therefore, on one of my last seminar trips I decided to generate my own word search, using the category of autophagy.     

University campuses need people in them

As COVID‐19 has turned universities into ghost towns, David Smith cannot wait for the day when his campus fills with life again.

In the novel Fool’s Fate, Robin Hobb writes: “Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there anymore.” I feel the same about university campuses.In late August 2020, after months of working from home, I returned to the campus of Western University where I am an associate professor of biology. It was supposed to be a short visit, in and out to grab some notebooks and an external monitor. But when I unlocked the office door and sat in that old wooden desk chair amongst the calm clutter of my workspace, I did not get up for a good two hours. I was comforted by the familiarity of my bookshelves, photographs, and professorial memorabilia, including a large bust of Darwin and a giant whale’s tooth. How I missed this place. And apart from two dead plants and a generous layer of dust, everything was as it should be.Outside my office was a different story. The water fountains were covered up with caution tape. Bright purple floor markings indicated the correct side of the hallway to walk down. Main offices, libraries, and canteens were closed. Large signs on all major doorways reiterated the social distancing policies. And apart from the odd security officer or grounds person, the campus was eerily empty. Nevertheless, I decided that for as long as the university remained open, I would keep coming to my office for a few hours a day, mainly to read and write without the cacophonic company of a toddler, but also to bring back some semblance of normalcy to my work life.The plan started off well. Each morning I would pack a large lunch, walk to campus and enjoy a few uninterrupted hours of academic productivity. But the stillness and emptiness of the university began to weigh on me. I could swear the fluorescent lights in my office were buzzing more loudly than before. Was the central air system always this rickety? After an hour of writing, I would take a quick walk around the department to clear my mind and see if anyone else was in. On my fifth day, I finally found someone: Vera’s office door was propped open! I quickly checked that my mask was on correctly and poked my head around. Small talk—glorious small talk—ensued for at least fifteen minutes. I had forgotten how nice it was to chat with a colleague in person. I went back to my office refreshed and put in another hour of good work. The next day, the building was deserted again. Not a sliver of light beneath Vera’s or any other door.I hoped that maybe once classes resumed in mid‐September, some vitality would return to campus. But, of course, nearly all of the classes were online and students and staff stayed home. Sometimes on my departmental wanderings, I would go into one of the large lecture halls and just stand at the podium. Once I even plugged my laptop into the AV system and practiced a presentation that I was preparing for an upcoming Zoom talk. As strange as it sounds, speaking to hundreds of lifeless seats in that old, stuffy hall felt more natural than talking to a grid of black boxes with nametags on my computer screen.As the weeks wore on and my visits to campus continued, a deep melancholy slowly took hold of me. I would spend hours on seemingly simple tasks, like tidying my office or answering emails. Harder tasks, such as writing a paper or developing a new lecture, felt insurmountable. I started leaving everything to the last minute or missing deadlines completely, which is unlike me. It felt as if my mood was somehow mirroring that of the vacant classrooms and buildings surrounding me. They, too, were paying the price of the pandemic.I have spent most of my life on college campuses. My father was a chemistry professor and often took me to work with him when I was a small child. My first daycare was at a university. As an adolescent and teenager, I would go to the local college most days for after‐school clubs. I learnt to swim at a university pool, became a senior boys 1500 m running champion on a university track, and discovered my love of mountain biking and cross‐country skiing on university trails. I met my closest friends in university residences. And my passion for science and writing was fostered in university classrooms. I love universities. I love what they represent: places of learning, scholarship, and development. I love the palpable emotions that they emit, from the endless possibilities of the first week of classes to the anxieties and sense of completion during final examinations. Most of all, I love the people that make up universities, their eclectic mix of personalities, backgrounds, ages, and beliefs. This might sound strange, but when I go on vacation, I visit universities elsewhere. I will spend an entire afternoon roaming around a campus, reading in the library, or sitting on a bench watching people come and go. This may be why I am so sad that my current institute sits unoccupied, at least in the physical sense. Ironically, enrollment is up. My department has more new undergraduate students than it has had in years.The other day on my walk home from work I ran into a colleague. He described to me how he has been working hard to get the upcoming introductory genetics course online, especially given the increase in students (there are more than 1200 currently enrolled in the course). I said, “You must be looking forward to the end of this crisis when we can start teaching in‐person again.” His response has had a lasting effect on me. “I’m not so sure things will go back to the way they were,” he said. “A lot of students are enjoying online learning—or are at least finding it convenient and cost‐effective. Many are saving money by living at home and by not having to bus into campus every day and buy overpriced food. They like being able to watch the recorded lectures on their own schedule and at their own speed. Even after the current crisis ends, I think there be will be a strong push for continued online learning.” “You might be right,” I said, “but I sure hope not.”When we parted ways, I felt even more downtrodden. I reminded myself that I was lucky to have a great job and that I needed to be adaptable. If the future is online learning, so be it. I can become a connoisseur of Camtasia. I can learn to be creative and engaging over Zoom. I can master those microphone and camera settings. But I could not help thinking this is not what I signed up for. When the pandemic is over, I do not want to exist in a cyber campus with online students and online colleagues. I do not want my home to be a lecture hall. I want brick and mortar and real bums in real seats. I want to stand in line for 20 minutes outside the student union building for lukewarm coffee. I want to waste precious time walking to meetings and making small talk in the corridors. I want the thing that I fell in love with. Until COVID‐19 is defeated, we need to stay vigilant. But when the war is won, will university campuses return to being physical gathering points for learning, engagement and community building or virtual concepts in an online learning space? Whatever the answer, I know that if you are looking for Associate Professor David R. Smith, you will find him holding out in the Biological and Geological Sciences Building, room 3028. The hand‐written sign on the door will say, “Going down with the ship.”     

After the year of the dumpster fire

2020 has been one of the craziest and strangest years we have lived through. Now that it’s over, it’s an opportunity to show gratitude for all the good things. Subject Categories: S&S: History & Philosophy of Science

I moved to New York City the year of the attacks on September 11, 2001, one of the bleakest moments in the history of the United States. I was also in New York City when Superstorm Sandy hit in 2012. Luckily, much fewer people died due to the storm, but it was incredibly disruptive to many scientists in the affected area—my laboratory had to move four times over a period of 6 years in the storm’s aftermath. These were awful, tragic events, but 2020 may go down in the record books as one of the most stressful and crazy years in modern times. Not to be outdone, 2021 has started terribly as well with COVID‐19 still ravaging the world and an attack on the US Capitol, something I thought I’d never see in my lifetime. The unnecessary deaths and the damage to America’s “House of the People” were heartbreaking.While these events were surely awful, nothing will be as crushing as the deaths of family members, close friends, and the children of friends; perhaps, it is these experiences—and the death of a beloved dog—that prepared me for this year and made me grateful, maybe even more than usual, for what I have. But in the age of a pandemic, what am I particularly grateful for?I''m ridiculously grateful to have a job, a roof over my head, and food security. The older I get, the more I see illness and injury affect my colleagues, family, and friends, I increasingly appreciate my good health. I am grateful for Zoom (no, I have no investment in Zoom)—not for the innumerable seminars or meetings I have attended, but for the happy hours that helped to keep me sane during the lockdown. Some of these were with my laboratory, others with friends or colleagues, sometimes spread over nine time zones. Speaking of which, I’m also grateful for getting a more powerful router for the home office.I''m immeasurably grateful to be a scientist, as it allows me to satisfy my curiosity. While not a year‐round activity, it is immensely gratifying to be able to go to my laboratory, set up experiments, and watch the results coming in. Teaching and learning from students is an incredible privilege and educating the next generation of scientists how to set up a PCR or run a protein gel can, as a well‐known lifestyle guru might say, spark serious joy. For this reason, I’m eternally grateful to my trainees; their endless curiosity, persistence, and energy makes showing up to the laboratory a pleasure. My dear friend Randy Hampton recently told me he received a student evaluation, thanking him for telling his virtually taught class that the opportunity to educate and to be educated is something worth being grateful for, a sentiment I passed onto a group of students I taught this past fall. I believe they, too, were grateful.While all of the above things focus on my own life, there are much broader things. For one, I am so grateful to all of those around the globe who wear masks and keep their distance and thereby keep themselves and others safe. I am grateful for the election of an American president who proudly wears a mask—often quite stylishly with his trademark Ray‐Ban Aviators—and has made fighting the COVID‐19 pandemic his top priority. President Biden''s decision to ramp up vaccine production and distribution, along with his federal mask mandate, will save lives, hopefully not just in the United States but worldwide.This Gen‐X‐er is also especially grateful to the citizens of Generations Y and Z around the world for fighting for social justice; I am hopeful that the Black Lives Matter movement has got traction and that we may finally see real change in how communities of color are treated. I have been heartened to see that in my adopted home state of New York, our local politicians ensure that communities that have been historically underserved are prioritized for COVID‐19 testing and vaccinations. Along these lines, I am also incredibly encouraged by the election of the first woman who also happens to be of African and Asian heritage to the office of vice president. Times are a changin''...While it is difficult to choose one, top thing to be grateful for, I would personally go for science. I am stoked that, faced with a global crisis, science came to the rescue, as it often has in the past. If I had to find a silver lining in COVID‐19—albeit it would be for the darkest of clouds—I am grateful for all of our colleagues, who despite their usual arguing, quickly and effectively developed tests, provided advice, epidemiological data and a better understanding of the virus and its mode of infection, and ultimately developed therapies and vaccines to save lives. The same can be said for the biotech and pharmaceutical industry that, notwithstanding its often‐noted faults, has been instrumental in developing, testing and mass‐producing efficient and safe vaccines in blistering, record time. Needless to say, I have also much gratitude to all of the scientists and regulators at the FDA and elsewhere who work hard to make life as we once knew it come back to us, hopefully in the near future.Once again, thank you for everything, Science.     

A Tale of Mother and Daughter

Loving science and nature and being a scientist can be very different, yet the two are so intertwined in a scientist''s life that you will certainly experience both aspects. This essay presents my perspective on how, as one who loves science and nature, I came to fall in love with centrosome behavior in stem cells and how I came to run a lab as a scientist. When I started, there was a big gap between my love for science and my experience as a scientist. I filled this gap by learning a “laid-back confidence.”Before the beauty of cell biology (or whatever you love), who you are (i.e., your age, gender, or race) is immaterial. Yet history shows that the ease with which you can pursue science is influenced by who you are. This has certainly been my experience. The key is to find a way to fill in the gap between who you are and what you are (i.e., a scientist), a goal in which we must all support each other. It is my hope that this essay will convey something helpful to those who are at early stages of their career and might be encountering obstacles because of who they are.     

Alcodemia: are we training our students to be great thinkers or great drinkers?

Academia has fostered an unhealthy relationship with alcohol that has an undeniable impact on the health and behaviour of students and staff. Subject Categories: S&S: History & Philosophy of Science, Chemical Biology, S&S: Ethics

University life has a lot to offer. And, for better or worse, much of it goes hand in hand with a bottle. Believe it or not, I was a bit of teetotaler in my undergraduate days but quickly made up for it in graduate school, where each celebration included inebriation. Indeed, my initial tour of the laboratory I eventually worked in included a refreshing visit to the grad club. Orientation week ended with a marathon beer blitz at a nightclub. The semester’s first invited seminar speaker was welcomed with the sounds of loose change, ice buckets and the clickity‐clack of organic microbrews being opened. Our inaugural genome evolution journal club was such a success that we vowed to spill even more red wine onto our notebooks the following week. In hindsight, I should have realized at this early stage in my studies that I was fostering an unhealthy and unsustainable relationship between biology and booze. Unfortunately, my post‐graduate education in alcohol didn’t stop there.Like many keen students, I arrived at my first scientific conference with a belly full of nerves and a fistful of drink tickets, which I quickly put to good use at the poster session. The successful completion of my PhD proposal assessment was met with pats on the back as I was swiftly marched off to a local pub with no chance of escape. My first peer‐reviewed paper literally arrived with a pop as Champagne was generously poured into plastic cups for the entire laboratory group. My failures, too, were greeted with a liberal dose of ethanol. “Sorry you came up short on that scholarship application, Smitty. It’s nothing a little weapons‐grade Chianti won’t cure.” “That experiment failed again! Come on, let me buy you a lunchtime martini to make up for it.” Soon I learnt that every academic event, achievement or ailment, no matter how big or small, could be appropriately paired with beer, wine or spirit. Missing from the menu were two crucial ingredients for any burgeoning researcher: moderation and mindfulness.But it was the older vintages that really inspired me – the legendary drinking escapades of my scientific mentors, advisors and idols. The tale of professor so‐and‐so who at that epic meeting in 1993 polished off an entire magnum of rosé at dinner and then went on to deliver among the greatest keynote lectures on record at 9 am the following morning. That celebrated chaired researcher who kept the single malt next to the pipette tips for quick and easy access. The grizzled evolutionary ecologist who never went into the field without half a dozen cans of high‐end smoked oysters and two hip flaks, which didn’t contain water. And so, when I was told by someone in the know of how the most famous geneticist on campus wrote that monumental Nature paper (the one I’d read ten times!) while locked in his office for twelve hours with a six‐pack, I bought into the romance hook, line and sinker. The result: I’ve been nursing a recurring headache for nearly two decades and I’m still waiting on that Nature paper. Most importantly, I now realize the various dangers of romanticizing the bottle, especially for individuals in mentorship positions.Like my idols before me, I’ve accrued a cask full of well‐oaked academic drinking stories, except that they haven’t aged well. There is that heroic evening of intense scotch‐fueled scientific discussion, which led to me forfeiting two front teeth to the concrete sidewalk (my mother still thinks it was a squash accident). Or that time I commemorated the end of a great conference in Barcelona by throwing up on the front window of a café while the most prominent minds in my field sipped aperitifs inside (thank god this was before Twitter). Even more romantic: me buying a bottle of Cotes de Nuits Burgundy at Calgary airport on route to a job interview, discreetly opening the bottle in‐flight because economy class wine sucks, and then being met by airport security upon landing. Let’s just say I didn’t get the job. To some, these anecdotes might seem light‐hearted or silly, but they are actually rather sad and underscore the seriousness of substance abuse. Many readers will have their own complicated experiences with alcohol in academia and, I believe, will agree that it is high time we asked ourselves: are we training our graduate students to be great thinkers or great drinkers? Moreover, this question does not address the equally if not more serious issue of excessive drinking among undergraduate students.As I sit at my desk writing this, I think to myself: is it normal that within a two‐minute walk of my university office there are three different places on campus that I can have a beer before lunch, not including the minifridge behind my desk? Is it normal that in my department the first thing we do after a student defends their thesis is go to the grad club where they can have any alcoholic drink of their choosing for free from the goblet of knowledge, which is kept on a pedestal behind the bar? Is it normal that before the COVID pandemic when I was visiting a prominent university for an invited talk, one of the professors I met with offered me a glass of expensive Japanese gin at 11 am in the morning? (And, yes, I accepted the drink.)Of course, if you don’t want to drink you can just say no. But we are learning more and more how institutional cultures – “the deeply embedded patterns of organisational behaviour and the shared values, assumptions, beliefs or ideologies that members have about their organisation or its work” (Peterson & Spencer, 1991) – can have powerful effects on behaviour. Excessive alcohol consumption is undeniably an aspect of collegial culture, one that is having major impacts on the health and behaviour of students and staff, and one that I’ve been an active participant in for far too long. I’ll be turning forty in a few months and I have to face the fact that I’ve already drunk enough alcohol for two lifetimes, and not one drop of it has made me a better scientist, teacher or mentor. The question remains: how much more juice can I squeeze into this forty‐year‐old pickled lemon? Well, cheers to that.     

Joan Heath interviews Suzanne Cory and Joan Steitz: a female perspective of science in the swinging ‘60s

Prompted by the occasion of International Women''s Day, Joan Heath and DMM reunited Professors Suzanne Cory and Joan Steitz via Zoom to discuss their extraordinary careers and joint experiences in science. They also delve into past and present challenges for women in science, and discuss the role of scientists in a post-pandemic world.

Suzanne Cory, Joan Steitz and Joan Heath (from left to right) As one of Australia''s most eminent molecular biologists, with a school in Melbourne bearing her name, Professor Suzanne Cory has been both Director of The Walter and Eliza Hall Institute of Medical Research in Australia (WEHI) and President of the Australian Academy of Science. She earned her PhD at the Medical Research Council (MRC) Laboratory of Molecular Biology (LMB) in Cambridge, UK, with postdoctoral training at the University of Geneva. She continues her research at WEHI as an honorary distinguished research fellow, investigating the genetics of the immune system in the development of blood cancers and the effects of chemotherapeutic drugs on cancer cells.Joan Steitz – currently Sterling Professor of Molecular Biophysics and Biochemistry at Yale University, and for 35 years the recipient of a Howard Hughes fellowship – is best known for her seminal work in RNA biology. She was the first female graduate student to join the laboratory of James Watson at Harvard University and proceeded with her postdoctoral training at the MRC LMB in Cambridge. Her pioneering research delved into the fundamental mechanisms of ribosome and messenger RNA interactions, as well as RNA splicing, heralding the phenomenon of alternative RNA splicing. A recipient of many awards and honours, she is also involved in international projects aimed at supporting women in science.Host Joan Heath heads a laboratory at WEHI in Australia. She received her undergraduate degree from the University of Cambridge, followed by her PhD at the Strangeways Research Laboratory also in Cambridge, then just across the road from the MRC LMB. After postdoctoral positions in bone biology and osteoporosis research, Joan joined the Ludwig Institute for Cancer Research where she became a laboratory head, and changed her focus to cancer research using zebrafish to identify genes that are indispensable for the rapid growth and proliferation of cells during development. She joined the WEHI in 2012. There she showed that the same developmental genes are also required by highly proliferative, difficult-to-treat cancers, including lung, liver and stomach cancer, paving the way for translational research targeting these genes in novel cancer therapies. Joan H: How long have you two known each other? Suzanne: I was calculating that this morning and I was astonished because it seems like only yesterday, but it has been 55 years since we met in Cambridge. It has been a voyage in science and a voyage in the world because we have always made a point to meet up in beautiful places and go hiking. That is how we''ve been able to renew our friendship over all these years. Joan H: Where were you when you first met? Joan S: We both were working at the MRC LMB in Cambridge, England. Suzanne was doing her PhD and I arrived slightly later for a postdoc.Suzanne: We had a pre-meeting in the sense that Joan, Jerry Adams (my future husband) and Tom Steitz (Joan''s husband), were all graduate students together in Harvard. So, when Joan and Tom came to Cambridge, it was natural that we would all start doing things together. And Joan and I ended up sharing a lab bench.Joan S: The reason that I did a postdoc in the mecca of X-ray crystallography was that I had married a crystallographer – and there was no other place that he could possibly go. They very much wanted to have my husband at the Cambridge MRC lab, but there wasn''t a clear plan for me. Francis Crick suggested that I do a literature project in the library, but I knew that theory was not my forte in comparison to experiments. I started talking to the many people working in the lab and found a project that no one wanted, because it was so challenging. But it was a very interesting problem, so I decided to take it on – and it turned out to be a great project.Joan H: That''s amazing. You were obviously determined to overturn other people''s expectations of you.Suzanne, even now, it''s extremely unusual for a young person to leave their home country to do their PhD. It''s still a brave thing to do but all those years ago it was really courageous. You told me that you ended up there because you wrote a simple letter, which was a complete shot in the dark.Suzanne: It certainly was. During my master''s degree at the University of Melbourne, I became more and more interested in doing science and decided I would do a PhD. But I had a counteracting desire to travel and see Europe. So I decided that I would do my PhD overseas to give myself the opportunity of travelling. I had fallen in love with DNA during my undergraduate studies. So, I wrote a letter to Francis Crick in Cambridge, and asked if he would take me on as a PhD student. Much to my amazement, I eventually got a letter back saying yes. I think that my professor of biochemistry might have also visited Cambridge while he was travelling and spoken up for me. However, I was still extraordinarily fortunate that Francis had agreed because there weren''t many PhD students in the LMB at that time. It made such a difference to my entire life. I look back on that letter and think, “How did you have the audacity to write that letter and aim to go to that laboratory?”. I think it was partly naivety.Joan H: That''s a lesson for everyone, to go for your dreams, and don''t assume people won''t take notice of you. It is more difficult now, when scientists receive hundreds of e-mail applications from prospective PhD students in their inbox. You would have written a letter with a stamp on it that probably took three weeks to arrive, but it just shows you that you should be audacious. Did you have a different experience to Joan when you arrived? Was there a proper project already lined up for you?Suzanne: I was interviewed by Francis Crick and Sydney Brenner, who were the joint directors of the department. They decided that I would work on the structure of the methionyl-tRNA that puts methionine into internal positions in polypeptides. After they described the project – which involved doing counter-current distribution fractionation of bulk tRNAs, in which I had no experience whatsoever – Sydney in his very characteristic monotone said, “Do you think you''re up to it?”. I sort of gulped to myself and said, “Yes, I think I could do that”. I then went to Brian Clark''s laboratory, who was going to be my PhD supervisor, and started the project. Like always in life, if you learn from people and just go from one day to the next, you actually get there in the end.Joan H: So, persistence was key. Were there many other women at the LMB at the time?Suzanne: I don''t remember any female scientists who had official senior positions. There were certainly some strong female scientists there, but I don''t think they were given the recognition or the status that they actually deserved.Joan S: Later, some were given more recognition, crystallographers in particular, but not so much the molecular biologists.Suzanne: I think, as women, we both pioneered in that department.Joan H: Given the fact that you both agreed to take on projects you had very little previous experience with and that the male supervisors thought you weren''t going to have the mettle to carry it through, once you were there, did you feel that you had to work the whole time? Or did you still manage to have lots of fun and partake in opportunities that Cambridge had to offer at the time?Joan S: We certainly partook in a lot of those things. My husband and I got interested in antique furniture, antique paintings, and used to scour the countryside for little antique shops. We saw lots of England, then a little bit of Scotland and Wales. It was wonderful. A real adventure.Suzanne: I worked really hard most of the time that I was in Cambridge, as the work was very exciting. But I would take holiday periods, camping and youth hostelling all over Europe with a girlfriend from Melbourne and later, travelling with Jerry. We also would go to London for the opera and looking for amazing clothes on Carnaby Street and Chelsea Road (this was the Beatles era, late 60s). Jerry once came back with a purple velvet suit, which was his prized possession for many years. There was lots of fun but also lots of work.Open in a separate windowJoan Steitz, Tom Steitz, Jerry Adams and Suzanne Cory (from left to right) in the Swiss Alps, 1970. Image courtesy of Mark Bretscher. This image in not reproduced under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license. For permission to reproduce, contact the DMM Editorial office. Joan H: Can you remember the first moment in that part of your career that gave you the most pleasure? Joan S: I worked on a project for about a year, and it turned out that I was doing the wrong fractionation method to get the material that I needed to analyse. Then I had a conversation with Sydney Brenner telling him that I was going to give this one more try with a new method, and then I was going to give up. I remember Sydney saying, “Sometimes, like with a bad marriage, you have to give experiments one last try before you give them up.” Then I tried again, and it worked. This is often the case in science, that you try something new, that''s a little bit different, and it makes all the difference. Then you''re running.Suzanne: The same thing happened to me. I was labouring away on the counter current distribution machines fractionating methionine tRNA, with the goal of sequencing it by the laborious procedure recently published by Robert Holley. However, Fred Sanger, in the department upstairs, had invented a totally new method for sequencing using ³²P-labelled RNA. I desperately wanted to try this, so I managed to persuade my supervisor that we should change techniques. That change was key to my future because the approach was successful. I still remember to this day exactly where I was in Cambridge, walking on a Sunday afternoon, when the last piece of the puzzle dropped into place in my mind, and I had the entire sequence. In that moment, I was extremely joyful, because I knew I had my PhD and that I had succeeded. So that was my eureka moment.Joan H: Obviously, these were extremely productive years, and you''ve mentioned several Nobel Prize winners in your midst. It must have been the most inspiring environment, which I''m sure had a big impact on what you did next. By this stage in your career, were you already feeling ambitious or was it still your scientific curiosity that was driving your path?

“I expected that I would go back to the United States and be a research associate in some man''s lab […]. Then it turned out that people were more impressed than I thought and started offering me junior faculty jobs.”

Joan S: I had gotten a lot of recognition for having sequenced a piece of mRNA, using the same methods that Suzanne used to sequence tRNA. However, I had no expectations, because I had never seen a woman as a science professor, or head of a lab. I expected that I would go back to the United States and be a research associate in some man''s lab, and maybe they''d let me guide a graduate student. Then it turned out that people were more impressed than I thought and started offering me junior faculty jobs.My husband had already secured a junior faculty job in Berkeley before we even went to England, so we went back there after two years. My husband went to the chair of the department in Berkeley and put down letters on his desk of job offers that both of us had received for independent, junior faculty positions from several universities. The Chairman then said to Tom, “But all of our wives are research associates in our labs, and they love it”. This tore at my pride, as there had been a couple of universities that offered us both faculty jobs, and Berkeley was only offering one. So, we didn''t stay at Berkeley, and we came to Yale, which was wonderful.Suzanne: It''s really amazing to think that they gave you up. How foolish they were.Joan H: They''ve lived to regret it a million times over. Suzanne, at that point were you ready to climb this very difficult ladder?Suzanne: Like Joan, I didn''t have any expectations. For me, it was a matter of being able to continue discovering things in science. Jerry had already arranged to start a postdoc in Geneva. So, I applied for a postdoctoral fellowship, and obtained one. We went off together to Geneva to start our married life, and that was the beginning of us doing science together, which we''ve done ever since. I think without Jerry guiding me at that stage in my life, I would have probably drifted out of science. I don''t think I had the scientific confidence to ever think that I would be running a lab. For me, it was just continuing a voyage of discovery; and being lucky to end up in a wonderful scientific partnership and, through that partnership, my confidence grew over the years. Joan H: How many years after your postdoctoral training was it before you looked around your environment and had the confidence to think that you could be a lab or department head or could run an Institute? Joan S: I would say that confidence just grew. Tom and I were part of a departmental overhaul that involved hiring about six new people at Yale. We all stuck together, supported each other and were very collegial even though we worked in different areas. I think the collegial nature of the department in Yale helped me gain confidence. It was very scary at first because I didn''t know if I could write grants or direct people.Suzanne: Cambridge had an incredible influence, certainly over me, and I''m sure over Joan, Tom and Jerry, too. We looked around and saw all these amazing Nobel laureates, but also all these very ambitious, talented postdocs from around the world. I don''t think anyone thought about being the head of a department at that stage. We were simply striving to make discoveries and we gave each other mutual confidence, and stiff competition, too.The other thing that Cambridge gave us, was a new technology. For Joan and me, it was RNA sequencing. Being able to do that technology opened doors all around the world. I now always advise young people to go to the best place in the world to train in your chosen subject and acquire a new technology, because that will open the door to many opportunities in the future.Jerry and I made some excellent discoveries in Geneva, which were published in front-rank journals. Then it was time to move to full independence. I really wanted to go back to Australia but, as Jerry is an American, it was not at all obvious that he should take the big leap of moving to the bottom of the world and starting a lab there. I owe him a tremendous debt because he decided that he would take that risk.Earlier, whilst on our honeymoon, we had visited various labs in Australia. Although WEHI was an institute for immunology, a field we knew little about at that stage, it had the same atmosphere as the LMB in the sense that everyone was striving at the frontiers of science and competing with the rest of the world. We decided this was the only place in Australia that we would work at and that we would attempt to persuade the new director Gus Nossal that he needed molecular biologists. We had an interview with him in Switzerland and he offered us jobs as postdocs. Again, we were probably very naive and audacious but we told him we didn''t want to be postdocs – we wanted to run our own lab. And he agreed and we launched our fledgling lab together in 1971. What drove us was always discovery, rather than career ambitions.Joan H: You''ve both described these amazing sets of circumstances that were challenging but, nevertheless, very satisfying. However, a lot of things have since changed. What do you think are the main remaining barriers to women in science?Joan S: There is an important phenomenon called social identity threat, or stereotype threat, that I think still impedes women in proceeding in their careers. The phenomenon is described by cognitive psychologists as a reaction that all people experience if they feel that they are part of an undervalued minority. And so, by definition, since there are fewer women in science than there are men, women are being subjected to stereotype threat. Cognitive psychologists have studied the physiological manifestations of this, including increased heart rate and perspiration but, psychologically, they''ve also documented that cognitive learning and memory are impaired when one has these feelings.I first learned about this in 2007 and I looked back and realized why, for 30 years, when I''d been on committees as the only woman amongst ten men, I wouldn''t dare say anything – because I was frightened stiff. Men undergo this response, too, if they''re put into the situation of being undervalued. If you understand why you''re reacting the way you''re reacting and know that this is a normal human response, I think it helps you to overcome your own feelings of insecurity and allows you to go ahead. I always tell young women who I''m rooting for in science about this, because I want them to know that they will very likely end up feeling this way, and it''s a normal human response.

“One thing I sometimes get frustrated about is that we often need men to change things […] but what we really need are women in those high-level positions, so that they can be the champions of change.”

Joan H: There are other terms describing other relevant phenomena, such as unconscious bias, imposter syndrome and champions of change. One thing I really relate to is imposter syndrome. I''ve listened to webinars on this topic and they all reach a similar conclusion that we all feel the same. On the one hand, at the end of the webinar, you do feel somewhat elated to know that it''s not just you, and that it''s normal. But, on the other hand, it doesn''t really change things. It''s a recognition of what we feel, and we all get some help from that, but you really need opportunities to change things at a higher level. One thing I sometimes get frustrated about is that we often need men to change things, leading to this concept of male champions of change. I admire those men; but what we really need are women in those high-level positions, so that they can be the champions of change. Not having 50% of university departments and medical research institutes run by women still limits our full potential.Joan S: I certainly agree with you, Joan. It''s very important to have realistic role models. Suzanne being head of the WEHI for all those years has engendered all sorts of admiration.Joan H: During that period, Suzanne not only did fantastic science but our Institute doubled in size.It''s transformative when you have women making up 50% of people around the table. It''s no help just having a token female because that poor person''s not going to be able to change everything on her own. In American scientific institutions, are there any firm quotas for female scientists and other people that are underrepresented in science?Joan S: In recent years there has been a push in that direction. Sometimes it''s successful and sometimes it''s not. It is very different now compared to when there was no consciousness that this was unfair or that things could be better if we had real representation.Suzanne: I agree with both of you in everything that''s been said. While reflecting at this moment, what it says to me is that what''s really needed is societal change, and that we need to give courage to girls from the very earliest age. It should come naturally, they shouldn''t feel inferior, and others should not look at them as inferior. They should expect to have careers as well as families, be able to manage both and have somebody alongside them who helps them manage both.I think that affirmative action for women in science is necessary because the pace of change has been so slow. However, I also think quotas can be detrimental to the cause of women, in the sense that it''s then possible for people to say you only made it because there was a quota – which is very destructive. If I look back on our careers in science, it is clear that things have changed tremendously. Today there are more opportunities for women because many universities and institutes are bending over backwards to equalise things. The downside of this is that talented men may miss out on positions because of this policy and the pendulum could swing back.Joan H: The evidence shows that when more women are involved in things, those things go better. For instance, boards that have more women on them are more productive. Obviously, what you alluded to is there are lots of fantastic male scientists as well. The real issue here is there''s not enough funding to go round to support all the great men and women. But there are clearly enough good women around to be represented at the 50% level, without disproportionately disadvantaging male scientists.Joan S: Men and women are now operating on a more even playing field, which doesn''t mean that the men are missing out. They''re just in a more-competitive situation – as they should be. Joan H: Suzanne previously covered the specific advice she would give to young female researchers. Joan, do you have any other suggestions? Joan S: I encourage them to try lots of different things in science, and when they find something that really grabs them, then go for it and be persistent. We all know that science is very up and down. But if you keep pushing when you''re in a trough, it will always go back up again and you will succeed. That''s harder for a young person, who hasn''t experienced these troughs, to understand.Joan H: Yes, and the period when women scientists start having children is the hardest part. It''s still a choice that some women make, to take some years off and come back with a less ambitious plan for their career. Obviously, things like maternity leave payments and so on are improving but there''s no question that, in most circumstances, the research will slow down during that period.Suzanne: What I say to young women at that stage of their careers is that you have to be very focused, you must spend the time that you do have in a very focused manner, so that you can be the most productive you can be. But you have to be supported at home by your partner. If you''re both scientists it''s easier because you can appreciate why the other person is rushing into the lab late at night, for example, but for most people, that''s not true. So, what is really important is equal sharing of responsibilities from both partners when young families are around. And I think employers need to give both of those partners a longer time to achieve the kind of papers that they need to progress in their careers. That''s a period when it is much harder to be productive, and we need to continue to support people during that difficult phase of their careers because we''ve invested so much in them. They have so much to offer to science and to society, so to let them slip out at that stage is a great waste.Joan H: Let''s change tack a little bit and think about some of the broader challenges in science. What do you think the COVID-19 pandemic has taught us about the importance of clear scientific communication and real engagement with the community?Joan S: Whenever I talk to people about this, I very clearly make the point that it was decades of fundamental research that led to the development of the COVID-19 vaccine. If it hadn''t been for those fundamental discoveries in how cells and mRNA work, it would never have only taken 63 days from sequencing the virus to phase one clinical trials at Moderna. I try to point out to people that all the different discoveries coming in from different angles made that possible. I personally find it absolutely remarkable that all that knowledge could be harnessed, so very quickly. I''ve been doing fundamental research my entire life and I never expected to see it materialise in the way it has. It''s a wonderful reward. Joan H: Do you think this has resulted in the community appreciating scientists more? Joan S: I don''t think we''re far enough downstream to know that. In the US, there has been a congressional vote to abandon our maintenance of vigilance and preparedness for future pandemics – which seems ridiculous. Now we have all these procedures set up, all we have to do is maintain them for the next one. Whereas, if we just let go of these procedures, we''ll have to start over again for future pandemics. I guess we''re not good enough at communicating some of these things at this point.Joan H: Millions of people died from the virus and yet, if we hadn''t had the vaccines, the scale would have been even more horrific. If we were able to convey this information effectively to the public, then, hopefully, people would recognise that – as well as spending a fixed percentage of the gross domestic product on defence, for example – we should spend at least the same amount on science. Not only for pandemics but for tackling climate change and other pressing issues. I like to think this is an auspicious time but I don''t know whether we are really taking advantage of it.Suzanne: The pandemic has brought science and scientists to the forefront, and there has been a period of great respect for scientists having developed the vaccine. It''s an absolute miracle that it was done so fast and effectively. We''re very fortunate but, as Joan said, that was not luck. It was through investment in basic science for decades. We have to keep conveying this message, to our politicians in particular, so that they will keep supporting all kinds of scientists, because we never know what''s around the corner.Joan H: Certainly, people like Anthony Fauci in the US and Catherine Bennett in Melbourne, spoke eloquently and had a real talent for communicating things clearly and in a nutshell. That''s not something we''re all good at and it''s not something that is easy to train into people either. I think we all need to try to capture the attention of the community at large, by speaking plainly. I don''t think people understand that scientists are underfunded and could do so much more if funding was more generous.

“All I can say to young people is, if you really love science and have a passion for it, keep trying – because you will succeed if you put your whole heart and soul into this career path.”

Suzanne: I think the general public has no appreciation of how tenuous the life of a scientist can be, and how we are losing so many great minds entering the field because young people just finishing their PhDs look with dismay at how hard it is to support a career in science and get enough funding. There''s a tremendous waste of talent. All I can say to young people is, if you really love science and have a passion for it, keep trying – because you will succeed if you put your whole heart and soul into this career path.Joan H: This has been an absolutely fantastic discussion and it''s such a delight to talk to women who, after all these years, are still as passionate as ever and are pursuing their scientific subjects with the same vigour as they have all along.Suzanne: It''s been wonderful to talk with you, Joan, and I hope that we see each other soon, no matter what continent. And thank you, Joan Heath for getting us together and giving us this opportunity.     

Gaia Pigino: Inside the cell

Gaia Pigino studies the molecular mechanisms and principles of self-organization in cilia using 3D cryo-EM.

Gaia Pigino was only 3 yr old when she became fascinated with nature in the beautiful countryside of Siena, Italy, where she grew up. The neighbor’s daughter showed her a hen in the chicken coop, and they caught it in the act of laying an egg. Gaia remembers, “This was for me almost a shock, as my experience about eggs was that they come directly out of paper boxes!” Her father was also an important part of awakening Gaia’s curiosity for the amazing things in nature. He used to bring home the award-winning magazine Airone, the Italian equivalent of National Geographic. Gaia never missed an issue; even before learning to read, she could spend hours looking at the captivating photos of the wildlife. She wanted to understand what she was seeing, and maybe because of that, she was determined to do science.Gaia Pigino. Photo courtesy of Human Technopole.Gaia took her first “scientific” steps with Professor Fabio Bernini and Professor Claudio Leonzio at the University of Siena, where she studied bioindicators of soil contamination and detoxification strategies of soil arthropods as part of her PhD project. But it was later, when she joined the laboratory of Professor Pietro Lupetti and met Professor Joel Rosenbaum, a pioneer of cilia research, that Gaia discovered the world of 3D EM and felt her place was “inside a single cell.” She solidified her interest in the structure of protein complexes of cilia and flagella and boosted her passion for cryo-electron tomography (ET) in the laboratory of Professor Takashi Ishikawa, first at the ETH Zurich and then at the Paul Scherrer Institut in Switzerland. In 2012, Gaia started her own laboratory at the Max Planck Institute of Molecular Cell Biology and Genetics in Dresden, Germany, with the vision of creating a truly interdisciplinary laboratory. Her team combines techniques from different fields such as biophysics, cell biology, and structural biology to answer open questions in the cilia field. Gaia recently moved countries again—this time to take over the position of Associate Head of the Structural Biology Research Centre, at the Human Technopole, Milan, Italy.We reached out to Gaia to learn more about her scientific journey and future research directions.What interested you about cilia?The first thing that attracted me toward cilia and flagella were some EM micrographs, by Professor Romano Dallai in Siena, that showed the beautiful geometrical microtubular structures of sperm flagella. I was intrigued by the apparent perfection of these organelles that clearly showed me that a cell is a coordinated system of complex molecular machines, the mechanism of many of which we do not understand. Soon after, Professor Joel Rosenbaum introduced me to the bidirectional transport of components inside cilia, which, he explained to me, is required for both assembly and function of virtually all cilia and flagella, from the motile cilia in our lungs to the primary cilium in our kidneys. He called it intraflagellar transport (IFT) and compared it to a Paternoster elevator, where the individual cabins were what we now call IFT trains. I was completely fascinated by the IFT system, the structure, the function, the dynamics, and the mechanism of which were still largely unknown. Quickly, I realized that in addition to IFT, cilia represent a virtually infinite source of open biological questions waiting to be solved, from the mechanics and regulation of the beating to the sensory function of primary cilia, and their importance for human health.What are some of the scientific questions currently of interest in your laboratory?In the past few years, we have made substantial contributions to the current understanding of the structure and the mechanism of the IFT (1, 2, 3). Currently, we are investigating how the structure of IFT trains relates to their functions by looking, in cryo-electron tomography, at how anterograde trains transform into retrograde trains and at how different ciliary cargoes are loaded on the trains. Beside this more classical line of research, we are exploring other approaches to study IFT, for instance we have developed a method to reactivate IFT trains in vitro on reconstituted microtubules. We want to use this approach to investigate the behavior of IFT trains, and their motors, in experimentally controllable conditions, e.g., in the presence of only certain tubulin posttranslational modifications. We have also made interesting discoveries about the distribution of tubulin posttranslational modifications on the microtubule doublets of the axoneme and how this spatially defined tubulin code affects the function of different ciliary components. We hope we will be able to share these new “stories” with the structural and cell biology community very soon!What kind of approach do you bring to your work?I believe that the main reason for why science became an integral, and dominant, part of my life is because it provides infinite riddles and continuous challenges. I have always been curious about how things work in nature, but I quickly realized that learning from books didn’t satisfy me. My desire was to be at the frontline, to be among the ones that see things happening in front of their eyes, at the microscope, for the first time. I wanted to be among the ones that make the discoveries that students read about in textbooks. Thus, what I bring to my work is an endless desire of solving biological riddles, curiosity, creativity, determination, and energy, with which I hope to inspire the members of my team. My laboratory uses an interdisciplinary approach; we use whatever method, technique or technology is needed to reach our goal, from the most basic tool to the most sophisticated cryo-electron microscope. And if the method we need does not yet exist, we try to invent it.A young Gaia Pigino (3 yr old) the day she discovered how eggs are made. Photo courtesy of Giancarlo Pigino.Could you tell us a bit about the Structural Biology Research Centre at the Human Technopole (HT)?At the HT Structural Biology Centre, we are working to create a vibrant and interdisciplinary scientific environment that will attract molecular, structural, cell, and computational biologists from all over the world. We are creating fantastic facilities, including one of the most well equipped and advanced electron microscopy facilities in Europe—and likely the world—headed by Paolo Swuec. My team, together with the teams of my colleague Alessandro Vannini and the research group leaders Ana Casañal, Francesca Coscia, and Philipp Erdmann, already cover a vast range of competences and know-how from classical molecular and structural biology approaches, such as crystallography and protein biophysics, to cryo-CLEM, cryo-FIB SEM and cryo-ET, all of which allow us to address questions in cell biology. Our goal is to create a scientific infrastructure and culture that will enable biologists to obtain a continuum of structural and functional information across scales.What did you learn during your PhD and postdoc that helped prepare you for being a group leader? What were you unprepared for?I learned that everyday research is mostly made of failures, but that with the right amount of obsession, persistence, curiosity, and creativity, it is always possible to succeed and discover new things. Being given the freedom to develop your own ideas and your own project very early in your career is a treat; science is not only about having good ideas! One needs to follow up on these ideas with intense work and troubleshooting to make them reality. In addition, I realized that being fearless and attempting what is considered too difficult by others, despite challenges, can turn into a worthy learning experience. Also, how you present your work to the scientific community matters for swinging the odds of success in your favor. Different places might work in very different ways, and conducting good science does not only depend on you, but also on the possibilities given to you by your environment.What was I unprepared for?—I guess several things, but one comes immediately to mind: I underestimated how much being responsible not only for my own life and career, but also the career of students, postdocs, and others in the laboratory, would affect me personally.Structure of the 96-nm axonemal repeat reconstructed by cryo-ET and subtomogram averaging. Image courtesy of Gonzalo Alvarez Viar, Pigino Lab.What has been the biggest accomplishment in your career so far?This is a tricky question for me... I tend to look into the future more than celebrating the past. I fight to succeed in something, but as soon as I conquer it, I find it less of an achievement than the thing I could conquer next. Nevertheless, I am happy about the discoveries and the papers published together with my students and postdocs (1, 2, 3, 4, 5). I am extremely excited about the fact that after many years of work I am now leading an interdisciplinary laboratory, where we combine techniques from different fields. I am also happy that three times my husband and I were able to move from one world class academic institution to the another to start exciting and fitting jobs and could still live together in the same place. We worked hard for this, but we also got lucky.What has been the biggest challenge in your career so far?I studied French in school; I had almost no exposure to spoken English until the end of my PhD. To avoid having to show my English insufficiencies, I did hide beside the board of my poster at the first international conference I attended in 2004! It took me a while to overcome this barrier and feel confident to express my thoughts and ideas in English.What do you think you would be if you were not a scientist?I had been a good fencer during my youth. I was a member of the Italian National Team between ages 14 and 19 and saw quite a bit of the world, which was cool! When my sporting career failed, due to diabetes, I was torn between art and science. I guess that in a parallel universe, I am a wildlife photographer and a potter specialized in wood kiln firing. [Gaia confesses that she misses “the amazing and addictive adrenaline rush of a good fencing match!”]Any tips for a successful research career?Do not compare your performances to the ones of the people at your career stage; compare yourself with people that are already successful one level higher than you currently are at. For example, if you are a PhD student, ask yourself what in your current performance separates you from being a good postdoc—once a postdoc, what is missing to be a good PI.     

Prenatal genetic screening and the evolving quest for “perfect babies”: at what cost for genetic diversity?

Commercial screening services for inheritable diseases raise concerns about pressure on parents to terminate “imperfect babies”. Subject Categories: S&S: Economics & Business, Molecular Biology of Disease

Nearly two decades have passed since the first draft sequences of the human genome were published at the eyewatering cost of nearly US$3 billion for the publicly funded project. Sequencing costs have dropped drastically since, and a range of direct‐to‐consumer genetics companies now offer partial sequencing of your individual genome in the US$100 price range, and whole‐genome sequencing for less than US$1,000.While such tests are mainly for personal peruse, there have also been substantial drops in price in clinical genome sequencing, which has greatly enabled the study of and screening for inheritable disorders. This has both advanced our understanding of these diseases in general, and benefitted early diagnosis of many genetic disorders, which is crucial for early and efficient treatment. Such detection can, in fact, now occur long before birth: from cell‐free DNA testing during the first trimester of pregnancy, to genetic testing of embryos generated by in vitro fertilization, to preconception carrier screening of parents to find out if both are carriers of an autosomal recessive condition. While such prenatal testing of foetuses or embryos primarily focuses on diseases caused by chromosomal abnormalities, technological advances allow also for the testing of an increasing number of heritable monogenic conditions in cases where the disease‐causing variants are known.The medical benefits of such screening are obvious: I personally have lost two pregnancies, one to Turner''s syndrome and the other to an extremely rare and lethal autosomal recessive skeletal dysplasia, and I know first‐hand the heartbreak and devastation involved in finding out that you will lose the child you already love so much. It should be noted though that, very rarely, Turner syndrome is survivable and the long‐term outlook is typically good in those cases (GARD, 2021). In addition, I have Kallmann syndrome, a highly genetically complex dominant endocrine disorder (Maoine et al, 2018), and early detection and treatment make a difference in outcome. Being able to screen early during pregnancy or childhood therefore has significant benefits for affected children. Many other genetic disorders similarly benefit from prenatal screening and detection.But there is also obvious cause for concern: the concept of “designer babies” selected for sex, physical features, or other apparent benefits is well entrenched in our society – and indeed culture – as a product from a dystopian future. Just as a recent example, Philipp Ball, writing for the Guardian in 2017, described designer babies as “an ethical horror waiting to happen” (Ball, 2017). In addition, various commercial enterprises hope to capitalize on these screening technologies. Orchid Inc claims that their preconception screening allows you to “… safely and naturally, protect your baby from diseases that run in your family”. The fact that this is hugely problematic if not impossible from a technological perspective has already been extensively clarified by Lior Pachter, a computational biologist at Caltech (Pachter, 2021). George Church at Harvard University suggested creating a DNA‐based dating app that would effectively prevent people who are both carriers for certain genetic conditions from matching (Flynn, 2019). Richard Dawkins at Oxford University recently commented that “…the decision to deliberately give birth to a Down [syndrome] baby, when you have the choice to abort it early in the pregnancy, might actually be immoral from the point of view of the child’s own welfare” (Dawkins, 2021).These are just a few examples, and as screening technology becomes cheaper, more companies will jump on the bandwagon of perfect “healthy” babies. Conversely, this creates a risk that parents come under pressure to terminate pregnancies with “imperfect babies” as I have experienced myself. What does this mean for people with rare diseases? From my personal moral perspective, the ethics are clear in cases where the pregnancy is clearly not viable. Yet, there are literally thousands of monogenic conditions and even chromosomal abnormalities, not all of which are lethal, and we are making constant strides in treating conditions that were previously considered untreatable. In addition, there is still societal prejudice against people with genetic disorders, and ignorance about how it is to live with a rare disease. In reality, however, all rare disease patients I have encountered are happy to be alive and here, even those whose conditions have significant impact on their quality of life. Many of us also don''t like the term “disorder” or “syndrome”, as we are so much more than merely a disorder or a syndrome.Unfortunately, I also see many parents panic about the results of prenatal testing. Without adequate genetic counselling, they do not understand that their baby’s condition may have actually a quite good prognosis without major impact on the quality of life. Following from this, a mere diagnosis of a rare disease – many of which would not even necessarily have been detectable until later in life, if at all – can be enough to make parents consider termination, due to social stigma.This of course raises the thorny issue of regulation, which range from the USA where there is little to no regulation of such screening technologies (ACOG, 2020), to Sweden where such screening technologies are banned with the exception of specific high‐risk/lethal medical conditions both parents are known carriers for (SMER, 2021). As countries come to grips with both the potential and the risks involved in new screening technologies, medical ethics board have approached this issue. And as screening technologies advance, we will need to ask ourselves difficult questions as a society. I know that in the world of “perfect babies” that some of these companies and individuals are trying to promote, I would not exist, nor would my daughter. I have never before had to find myself so often explaining to people that our lives have value, and I do not want to continue having to do so. Like other forms of diversity, genetic diversity is important and makes us richer as a society. As these screening technologies quickly advance and become more widely available, regulation should at least guarantee that screening must involve proper genetic counselling from a trained clinical geneticist so that parents actually understand the implications of the test results. More urgently, we need to address the problem of societal attitudes towards rare diseases, face the prejudice and fear towards patients, and understand that abolishing genetic diversity in a quest for perfect babies would impoverish humanity and make the world a much poorer place.     

Walking between academia and industry to find successful solutions to biomedical challenges: an interview with Geoffrey Smith

Geoffrey W. Smith is currently the Managing Director of Mars Ventures. He actually started his studies with a Bachelor of Arts degree and a Doctorate in Law but then, in part by chance and in part by following in his family footsteps, he stepped into the healthcare and biotech field. Since then, he has successfully contributed to the birth of a number of healthcare companies and has also held academic positions at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai and at The Rockefeller University in New York, teaching about the interface between science and business. During 2014 he served as Senior Editor on Disease Models & Mechanisms, bringing to the editorial team his valuable experience in drug development and discovery. In this interview, Geoff talks to Ross Cagan, Editor-in-Chief of Disease Models & Mechanisms, about how he developed his incredibly varied career, sharing his views about industry, academia and science publishing, and discussing how academia and industry can fruitfully meet to advance bioscience, train the scientists and stakeholders of the future, and drive the successful discovery of new therapeutics to treat human disease.Geoffrey W. Smith was born in 1965. He obtained a Bachelor of Arts degree from Williams College in Williamstown, MA. After a stint as a Research Associate at Harvard Business School, he graduated from the University of Pennsylvania Law School. Following a federal court clerkship and first job experiences in law, he joined a healthcare services start-up named Advanced Health as one of its first employees. Geoff then co-founded various healthcare and technology companies, including Interbind and Ascent Biomedical Ventures, and is still a Managing Partner at the latter. In 2012, he joined the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, first as Professor in the Department of Population Health Science And Policy, and then as Director and co-founder of the Design, Technology, and Entrepreneurship PhD program. Until December 2014, he was a Senior Editor at Disease Models & Mechanisms. Geoff is now Managing Director of Mars Ventures.Let''s start with your background. You have a Bachelor of Arts degree and a law degree. How is it exactly that you ended up working in biotech and pharma?My career path has been anything other than linear. I was actually pursuing my legal career when two entrepreneurs turned up at the law firm I was working for with an idea for a new technology-based company focused on more effectively managing healthcare services. I was a new associate without much to do, so I got assigned to work with the start-up and after about a year they asked me to come and join the company, Advanced Health. I had grown up in a very medically oriented family – my father was a medical school professor, my older sister was a PhD, and my younger sister is a medical doctor – and so to a certain extent joining a start-up in the healthcare space was a bit like joining the family business.We had a fair amount of success with that company. A little less than 2 years after I joined it, we had a successful initial public offering, and that started me down the road of participating in the start-up environment around healthcare.It sounds like it was not a surprising path for you. Which key people influenced you?Actually, it is somewhat surprising in that I had really prepared for and expected a career in law. Certainly, the work I did in law school and the first jobs I had after that started me on a different career. I was really focused on international relations and international law. The twist was that I got brought back into the healthcare arena, and ultimately the biotech arena, by a serendipitous connection – one of the entrepreneurs who started Advanced Health had trained at Brigham Women''s Hospital where my father was the Chief of Cardiology. It was through this connection that I became more than just an associate drafting legal documents and really began to build a close relationship with the founders, which ultimately led to me joining that business. This taught me that you can spend much of your time preparing, and thinking that your schooling is going to take you in one direction, but individual relationships can change your path and take you somewhere else altogether. In my case, these particular relationships stemmed from my father, who clearly had an enormous influence on me. He was both a practising clinician and a basic researcher, studying basic biology related to the function of sodium and potassium in the heart, but he also did applied research. He helped develop a radioimmunoassay test to measure digitalis levels in the blood and ultimately was involved in developing a drug called Digibind, an antidote to digitalis toxicity, which was one of the first drugs to use antigen-binding fragments [Fab] as the basis for a drug. Watching him manage these different activities in his career had a big influence on me.

“This taught me that you can spend much of your time preparing, and thinking that your schooling is going to take you in one direction, but individual relationships can change your path and take you somewhere else altogether”

I think that each of my sisters – as I said, one of whom went down a PhD route and one of whom went down a medical training route – had a big influence on me, as well. Watching the challenges that they had to face in those areas in some ways pushed me to go off towards law school and take a different path. It also brought me back to one of the aspects that I think is the most rewarding in the bioscience field, which is that you can have a profound impact on a large number of people through your efforts, whether they be purely research-based, academic-based or commercially-based.One of the things I was constantly impressed by is that you always seem to have a good feel for the health field and the biology field. Is this because it is something of a family business?I think so. Growing up at my dinner table, I was just privileged to get to meet and interact with a lot of incredibly successful clinicians and researchers. For me those were comfortable conversations: these were friends and so there was a comfort level being involved in that environment. I didn''t feel a lot of intimidation from it, which I think sometimes people who come from the outside do.One of the aspects I really like about the bioscience field is the impact of ideas. Success is really about one''s ideas and ability to execute them, and that was very appealing to me. It wasn''t about how much money you had or where you went to school, it was really about the ability to think deeply about a problem or a potential advancement and figure out a way to find a way forward. It is also a very people-driven process because it is not only about thinking deeply yourself but also about thinking deeply with those in your field or adjacent to your field. Lots of different personality types can succeed in this field, but I think it is certainly easier for people who have an affinity for sitting with people and thinking about a common area of interest.To that point, you actually have walked between business and scientists. What do you see is the difference? Some of the priorities are obvious, but what are the differences in terms of what motivates people in the two? Are the personalities that you come across different between the basic science world, the translating science world and the business world?I don''t think the personalities are particularly different. I think you find introverts and extroverts and everything in between in each of these areas. I am not sure that personality is necessarily a good predictor of success. I think it''s a question of what toolset you are most comfortable using to get at a problem, and where in the lifespan of a problem you''re interested in working.For example, scientists in academia very often are interested in working at an early stage of a problem. They understand something fairly basic about a process or something earlier in the understanding of a field. People who gravitate towards industry, instead, are more excited about working on the later part of a process, so, rather than trying to understand what the fundamental working mechanism is, they want to understand how to work that mechanism in a way that is predictable and repeatable.Obviously people in the commercial realm are often highly influenced by money, but even that I don''t think is really particularly the differentiator. There are plenty of academics who are driven by money as well. I really think it has much more to do with where on the spectrum of understanding one is interested in working. Industry is geared to solving practical problems and, if a lot is understood about a problem, to getting down to the ability to repeatedly and safely intervene, whereas academia really lends itself more towards understanding the front end of a problem or of an unknown mechanism to understand it first and at a more basic level.What about working in teams versus individually? Do you see a difference there?I think that has changed over time. I think it is very hard in academia today to be the brilliant solo investigator. I''m not saying it''s impossible but, considering the increasing size of the data sets one is working with, the statistical methods one has to use, the complexity of different fields overlapping with each other, it''s just very hard to handle all the necessary aspects of modern science as an individual. Increasingly, working in teams isn''t a choice: I think it''s a necessity in order to be effective. The difference may be that, in academia, often the teams are teams of collaborators (meaning they have influence but not necessarily power over all people participating in the team) who may work for different institutions, whereas, more commonly in industry, teams are working within a single corporate structure. In industry more often there are hierarchical relationships, which may allow for more directive behavior. Again, I''m not sure I would draw as much distinction between team or not team and between industry and academia, but I might draw somewhat of a distinction between how those teams function and how one manages a team. I think they are a bit different between the two realms.

“Increasingly, working in teams isn''t a choice: I think it''s a necessity in order to be effective”

Let''s turn to Disease Models & Mechanisms [DMM], where you have been a Senior Editor. What did your experience at DMM teach you about science publishing that perhaps you hadn''t thought about, and has it made you think more deeply about what goes into a good scientific piece of work? What were some of the surprises?Watching the detailed process that is necessary to take a piece from an initial submission through to a published article gave me comfort and respect for the level of diligence and the level of attention that the reviewers brought to the vast majority of the pieces. It gave me a good feeling that the science community can be a strong self-reinforcing organization that takes its responsibility to heart and only publishes the best of the work available. I think that was very reassuring.An interesting question for me was: is there a different function that the publication process could play in helping to galvanize new ideas or new interactions among different fields? That seemed to be challenging because people don''t want to rush out there without their ideas and data being fully thought-out and fully vetted. But still, somewhere in my mind is this notion that there should be an option in the publishing world to play a little bit earlier in the generation of new ideas.Do you mean journals having an earlier relationship – earlier in the experimental process with a laboratory – to work with them to provide advice?I don''t know if it''s to provide advice. One of the things I was struck by at DMM is that there are these different siloed research communities – for example, the fly and the fish communities – in which interactions and relationships in the individual fields are so well established and routinized. And the outcome from a publishing standpoint is still the canonical academic paper that has been relatively unchanged over a long period of time. Yet, we have had these tremendous changes in information and communication technology such that the manner of knowledge production and the methods of communicating in other parts of society have changed dramatically. It feels like there hasn''t been nearly as big a concomitant communication change in the biomedical sciences, and so the silos and the standard paper remain the way things are done.The publication process, because of its preciseness, can take quite a long time, so the musing here is whether there is a way that the publishing industry could facilitate an earlier, more speculative communication of interesting results in a way that would positively impact the field by turning over new information sooner. If you look at an area like maths, for example, and their pre-print servers, there is more of a notion of putting ideas out in the community that acts as a kind of peer-review process and a way to get the community interacting on new ideas early. That doesn''t seem to get a lot of attention in the life sciences area. It seems to me that even journals like the PLOS journals that are pushing towards a more open world of communication are still ending up being pulled back into the canonical paper form to communicate.

“…the musing here is whether there is a way that the publishing industry could facilitate an earlier, more speculative communication of interesting results in a way that would positively impact the field by turning over new information sooner”

I guess one of the issues on the biology side is that there is a real emphasis on trying to get your paper into the most prestigious journal, so people don''t want to drop that paper until it is as far along as possible to aim at high-impact journals.That of course becomes a self-reinforcing system. If the yardstick used in the life sciences industry is publication in high-impact-rated journals, then you are going to get that behavior. But if you''re interested in the generation of new knowledge and in moving your field forwards, it is at least plausible that publishing in a quicker fashion or with at least some outlet to move more creative ideas ahead would be attractive.There are clearly challenges to that. But I do think it''s remarkable that if you look at almost every other media area there has been a huge amount of change since the advent of the internet era, but there really has been very limited change around life sciences publishing. It''s been surprisingly conservative to me. I am wishing there would be more experimentation to find other ways to communicate information sooner and in a way that could spur more creativity.Of course, when you tie publishing back to industry, for competitive and intellectual property protection reasons, industry tends to not really want to get out in the front with its most interesting work too early. I think that a lot of things being published out of industry are not the most interesting stuff that is happening. But again it seems to me that another area that science publishing should be thinking about is how they could come up with other solutions that might provide for a more creative interaction between publishing and industry.Talking about old models versus new models, let''s move to issues of training. Another area that you''ve been impressive at is the training of scientists. You''ve had your hand in creating a new PhD track at Mount Sinai called Design, Technology, and Entrepreneurship [DTE]. What is your view about how we train scientists, what we''re doing better these days and what you would like to see being done better to train them?It seemed to me that there was a remarkably small amount of experimentation in academia around thinking about how to train biomedical PhDs, and that academia had missed the opportunity to provide a better set of tools to PhDs to allow them to be effective across a wider range of potential career outcomes. The majority of biomedical PhDs are not ending up in tenure-track faculty positions but rather in the ‘alternative career track’. It seemed to be disingenuous to train them solely for the academic track if in reality the majority were going to some other career track.So what I was really excited about in putting together the DTE program was trying new ways to train PhDs to be effective askers of questions and proposers of solutions, and to create an environment where they could gain experience in how to solve a variety of problems effectively.

“…what I was really excited about in putting together the DTE program was trying new ways to train PhDs to be effective askers of questions and proposers of solutions, and to create an environment where they could gain experience in how to solve a variety of problems effectively”

This meant that our students had to be rigorously trained as scientists, but this was an ‘and’ opportunity and not an ‘or’ opportunity. In addition to being trained as excellent basics scientists, we wanted to give them some training in how engineers think about problems, how designers approach issues, what tools those people use and how that impacts how they try to solve a problem. Hopefully over time this would produce students that are better suited for interacting and influencing other parts of society – be it industry, government or policy – and better positioned to compete in what is a very competitive job market.What were some of the things you did in the DTE training to get at this?We really tried to teach theory in the context of real problems. Virtually all the classes of the DTE curriculum were problem-driven. We created a class that we called ‘The Q.E.D. Project’ that followed along from efforts at Stanford and elsewhere to teach students how to identify an unmet need. We then asked them to form a team to address the unmet need, and then helped them understand how to build a prototype to address that need. Along the way, we also talked about what kind of roles people in their team need to play. Should your team be very diverse or very deep in a given area? How do we integrate people who have different cultural backgrounds or how do we integrate medical students with PhD students? We brought in a lot of people out of the non-academic environment who were practitioners and experts in their various areas and we tried to get students to think about the full range of stakeholders they would have to engage with to bring a solution to bear.We did not want to spend a lot of time lecturing the students in a purely didactic way. We wanted to engage them in a process where they were solving important problems as part of the class. Whether that was a class on modelling or an engineering-focused class, or how to think about scientific problems, the core of DTE was built around getting the students to grapple with a real world problem and let all the learning hang off that.How did the students respond to that? Do you think you were successful?Based on the number of students signing up to take the courses and the student evaluations after the classes were over, I think we really struck a chord. I wouldn''t say it was necessarily the right answer for every student but I think there is clearly a group of students for whom this is a really effective and motivating approach.Let''s now move to drug discovery and development – the focus of the new online Special Collection from DMM. What would you say are some of the most urgent challenges in drug development that you have seen?I think one of the most urgent challenges is to begin to break free of some of our ‘old’ ways of thinking and take advantage of new scientific insights. For example, if you look at the traditional organization in a medical school environment, they are centered around departments devoted to organs (liver, heart, kidney). I think our increasing scientific understanding is that there are disease processes that may impact multiple organ systems but ultimately it is understanding the process, and drugging the process, that becomes important and not drugging the organ.I think that moving towards a process-oriented understanding of what common mechanisms are implicated in a given disease state or therapeutic challenge will help us be a little more creative and a little bit more interdisciplinary in how we think about these challenges.One of the difficulties with those new approaches is that pharmaceutical companies and academic institutions have not had a great track record of working together. Do you think that''s true? And why do you think it''s been so difficult to move ideas from the bench to the clinics?I think this is complicated. If you take the academic researchers'' point of view, their early identification of a problem and early identification of a potential solution feels like they have moved the ball very far forward towards the end solution. If you take industry''s point of view, the identification of the target or even the identification of a potential chemical compound is really just barely beginning to get to the starting line; the bulk of the time and the bulk of the dollars that will ultimately be needed to create a product come after the academic work and these will be spent by industry. I think that this differing point of view around where and how value is created has a lot to do with many of the challenges that arise when academia and industry are speaking to each other.Is it important to bridge this gap or is everybody playing their role?I think there''s an opportunity for academia to continue in its current role but to carry the potential solution further. I think in certain areas the access to tools and to patients allows academics to maybe carry projects further and closer to ‘proof of concept’ than they did historically, and that will continue to add value to the academic institution. That would ultimately help to bridge this gap because if you''ve taken something closer to proof of concept while still within the academic institution, you have created more value, you are able to engage with industry differently, and maybe the value perception gap is closed somewhat.What industry is really good at is organizing and managing late-stage research and clinical trials in an effective manner, and what academia is really good at is understanding basic questions, finding targets and sometimes finding early chemical compounds. Again, I think that the perception in academia of where value has been created is in part related to the fact that many academics haven''t been given the exposure or the training to actually understand the full breadth of the drug-development process. While they may have a general sense of it – we have all seen the same diagrams showing the steps and the funnel narrowing down from a million compounds to something getting onto the market – only those with real exposure to the work in industry understand it at a visceral or experiential level. One of the opportunities for academia is to find better ways to have some cross-talk, whether that''s internships for graduate students to get some experience in industry or other ways to get the students really exposed to the industrial side of drug development. Obviously, all the trained scientists on the industry side have been through academia because they had to go through it to get their PhDs, and thus they understand the academic side of the house pretty well. I really think the challenge is getting to people who have spent their whole career in academia to have a better understanding of what the drivers are on the industry side.

“One of the opportunities for academia is to find better ways to have some cross-talk, whether that''s internships for graduate students to get some experience in industry or other ways to get the students really exposed to the industrial side of drug development”

Between target identification and clinical trials of course there is another piece. At what point does the researcher in academia put down his pipette, walk out and start a biotech company? Should that happen?That''s a fraught question because I think it is an enormous undertaking to start a biotechnology company. Fundraising, intellectual property, regulatory affairs, company management – there are a whole number of disciplines that biotech companies have to take on. It is very rare that an academic scientist is going to have the training, the time and the motivation to do all of those things while also continuing to pursue their academic career in a very challenging funding environment. I think it comes back to this point that we were talking about with teams. I think it is really important for a scientist who is excited about their work and thinks it may be the basis of a company to go out and begin to form a team that is going to increase the likelihood of success. They have to accept the fact that science is a critical component, but it is just a component, and many different disciplines along with many different people are needed to make a successful company. If a scientist can bring that sort of collaborative view point and is open to working closely with an intellectual property attorney, with a business development person and with whomever their funding source is, that will increase their likelihood of success. They have to do it with a certain amount of humility, which is to say that it isn''t just going to be the science that drives the success: all the given pieces have to come together to be successful.You''ve watched a lot of technology coming through, including at your new position at Mars. Which technology excites you?We all have to pay a lot of attention to CRISPR and the gene-editing technologies. There is certainly a number of intellectual property issues that have to get sorted out but that''s clearly an area that will have a huge impact not just on human health but on animal health and plant health as well.The other area I''ve been thinking a lot about lately is the microbiome. As sequencing technology has altered in cost and time, we have begun to be able to explore the microbiome in a way that historically was not possible. And it feels like we are moving towards a tipping point where the explosion of understanding is going to open up a lot of interesting opportunities for us to intervene. Whether that''s through traditional drug modalities or through altered nutrition or through changing the microbial community in soil to produce crops that have higher nutrient value or other approaches, I think that''s another broad area that seems poised to begin to offer really interesting results.Were you surprised that a company like Mars, which has not been a basic research company at all, is now giving you an opportunity to build something that is much more research-orientated?The reality of Mars is that they have actually had a very deep fundamental research program for a number of years. They got involved in the sequencing of the cacao genome and contributed it to the public domain, and they are now also involved in the sequencing of the genomes of a large number of orphan crops in Africa. So they have been very active in their research both in the company and in collaboration with academic scientists around the world. The nature of the company has meant that the work is perhaps not as obvious as others, but it is a remarkably science-driven company in much of what it does.You have done a myriad of things. What are the one or two things that you are most proud of?I am most proud of my efforts to keep a hand in both the commercial and the academic world. It certainly has not been easy but I have received enormous satisfaction from the opportunity to work with bright students at each of the schools I have had the opportunity to teach at. I am not sure there is anything more satisfying than the opportunity to work with students and feel you have helped them towards their goals.At the same time, I think I''ve been effective in doing that because I have managed to keep an active role in the applied world. In some ways, my greatest achievement has been finding a way to balance those two interests in a way that seems to have worked for the various organizations I''ve been affiliated with.How do you relax away from work? Do you have a family?I am married. My wife is a securities litigator so has a very active career of her own. We have two children, one in high school and one in middle school. I''ve had the privilege to coach both of them on their various soccer teams since they were each about 4 years old so that''s been a lot of fun.The other thing that many people will not find relaxing – but for some reason my family does – has been taking backcountry ski trips annually for a number of years. Worrying about navigating through the snow and finding shelter before darkness falls has a way of clearing the mind.     

In conversation with the Chief Editor

An interview with Facundo D Batista, The EMBO Journal new Editor‐in‐Chief.

An interview with Facundo D. Batista, The EMBO Journal new Chief Editor. Facundo D. Batista has shaped our understanding of the molecular and cellular biology of B‐cell activation. In 2016, he relocated his lab to Massachusetts General Hospital/M.I.T./Harvard’s Ragon Institute to explore the translational potential of two decades of basic research in B‐cell biology. The interview was conducted by Thiago Carvalho. Thiago Carvalho (TC): What inspired you to pursue a career in science? Facundo D Batista (FDB): I was very inspired by my undergraduate course on molecular biology at the University of Buenos Aires. The course was given for the first time, and we were taught the basic techniques of handling DNA, producing insulin, and so forth. Two professors in the course, Daniel Goldstein and Alberto Kornblihtt, really primed us to open our horizons and encouraged training in centers of excellence abroad. I did not speak any English at all, and applying to graduate school in the United States and doing the GRE was impossible for me. I would not have passed. Then, an opportunity to go to Italy and get experience in institutes that could provide me with better training came up. If I recall correctly, we were the first generation of Argentinian biology graduates—myself, Pablo Pomposiello, and many others—that left Argentina looking for a PhD. In general, people would try for a postdoc.I applied to a PhD program in Italy. I went with an open ticket for a year. If I had not passed the ICGEB/SISSA (Trieste) examination, I had three thousand dollars to travel around, and then I would go back to Argentina. I had never been in Europe before. So, for me it was an experience. What happened was that I was very lucky to be admitted in probably the first generation of this new institution, the International Centre for Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology in Italy. In three years, I finished my PhD, and then, to be honest, as an Argentinian in Europe, I did not have many postdoctoral funding opportunities either. TC: How did you move from Trieste to Cambridge’s Laboratory of Molecular Biology? FDB: I found Michael Neuberger’s laboratory to be very appealing, and I wrote to Michael. He replied to me, in a letter that I still keep, that—if I was able to obtain a fellowship—he would take me in his laboratory. A wonderful thing about EMBO was that it would recognize the country where you did your PhD when considering postdoctoral fellowship applications, giving me access to this important funding support. ¹ It was the very early days of diversity—the notion that people could be eligible for support based not only on their nationality, but also on their “scientific nationality”. It gave me a unique opportunity. TC: It was also an opportunity to meet another source of inspiration for you, César Milstein FDB: César was not well at the time, he had heart problems. But I met him, and I felt very close because Michael was working with César, and he worked next door. For me, walking in those corridors with César Milstein and several other Nobel Prize winners—you know, Aaron Klug and Max Perutz—it was a dream. I could not believe that you could have lunch with these wonderful people, and they would come and talk to you, not as Dr. Klug or Dr. Milstein, but they would be César, Aaron, and Max. That for me was totally mind‐changing, together with my relationship with Michael, whom I love. They completely changed my perspective on science. TC: What do you remember most about Michael Neuberger as a mentor? FDB: What was incredible about Michael was his clarity. You would present any biological problem to him, and he would crystallize in one sentence what the real question behind it was. He was amazing. Michael would enter into a state of thinking where he would stop looking at you and would start looking up at a wall and would start to concentrate for those 10, 20 minutes that you’d explain the problem. Then, he would come up with critical questions and he would be critical to the bones. I think that that is something that science has lost these days. I think that this notion of going deep into critically asking the right scientific questions has been lost as a tradition. It is something that I try to transmit to my postdocs and PhD students: Scientific criticism is not about personal or emotional evaluation. It is really about trying to nail down what the question is and how a project develops. I think that is what I remember most of Michael, his commitment to the people that worked with him and who surrounded him and that deep thinking and constant challenging about what is the next step. TC: In 2002, you started your laboratory at the London Research Institute FDB: I was at one stage considering staying at the LMB with my independent lab, and César and Michael were very supportive of that. But then came the opportunity to join the LRI—which at the time was still the ICRF. I was the last employee recruited (to the ICRF), and it was wonderful. The notion of changing environments again, changing colleagues. The LMB was not an immunology institute. It was a general research institute and the ICRF at that time was similar, with very little immunology. I have always valued the whole spectrum of biology from mathematical modeling to quantitative biology to biochemistry to technological inputs, to development, and so forth. TC: Your LRI laboratory revealed entirely new aspects of the molecular and cellular biology of B lymphocytes—one was the existence of organized membrane structures reminiscent of the immunological synapse first described in T cells that were crucial for activation. What are the implications of the immunological synapse for B‐cell function? FDB: It was a concept that was resisted by the B‐cell field. The notion at the time was that B cells would get activated by soluble antigens. But if you think about it, that does not make any sense. You will never reach a physiological concentration of a ligand that will allow you to engage a receptor in vivo at a low affinity. So in order to reach that concentration, you need to aggregate antigen on the surface of other cells first. And that makes the whole process much more efficient. It not only localizes the process into lymph nodes or spleens, but it also allows focusing the response into what the arrangement of a membrane is. I was not the first—the notion that antigens are on follicular dendritic cells was well‐established by early experiments. But I think our work transformed the field. A lot of laboratories have incorporated the notion that stimulating cells at the level of membranes changes the way that receptors perceive signals. This does not apply only to the B‐cell receptor, it applies to chemokines too, many of them are also coating the surface of other cells and that helps guide the signals that cells receive.I think that it is an important concept that is likely to be applicable to vaccines. There are several papers now showing that helping to aggregate antigens on the surface of macrophages or dendritic cells makes antigens more potent by driving them more efficiently into where they are used in follicles and lymph nodes. TC: What prompted your pivot to translational research? FDB: I had learned a lot about basic principles of B‐cell biology and antibody responses, but on model antigens. I felt at the time that translating that into humans and trying to understand how vaccines could be improved was an important step. I always like to recognize mentors or people who influenced me and one person who really influenced me in this thinking was Dennis Burton at Scripps. He was very early to incorporate into his HIV vaccine and antibody research people like me or Michelle Nussenzweig that were coming from basic B‐cell immunology to try to help to think about how vaccines can be improved. I decided to take a risk. I left a tenured, core‐funded position at the best institution in Europe to lead the Ragon Institute with Bruce Walker—I am the Associate Director and he is the Director—and brought my years of expertise at the ICGEB, LMB, LRI, and CRICK to a unique environment that is based on translational research. There is the incredible ecosystem of Harvard, MIT, and MGH, and the notion is to incorporate technologies and to incorporate immunology to tackle incredible challenges, like COVID‐19 is today. TC: Are there any major initiatives that you plan to focus on at The EMBO Journal? FDB: One of the things that I would really like to do is to involve the younger generations in the journal. I think that we have an opportunity for direct “translation”. I mean, EMBO has EMBO postdoctoral fellowships and EMBO young investigators, involving early career European scientists, but also scientists across the globe. We are discussing initiatives like, for example, inviting postdocs from different laboratories to present at the editorial meetings. The EMBO Journal has an open‐door policy in terms of people wanting to participate in the editorial meetings.I think that we have amazing scientists around the world that can really bring new views as to where the journal should be going. I feel strongly about that and about keeping a real sense of diversity in the journal, in terms of fields, in terms of gender, in terms of race, in getting people involved from Brazil, getting people involved from China, getting people involved from Japan, from across the globe. EMBO is no longer a European journal. EMBO is a journal whose office faces Europe, but it has a global outlook. TC: Early in their career, many researchers do not feel comfortable engaging with editors FDB: I sent one of my first papers as an independent P.I. to EMBO. That paper was editorially rejected. I replied to that rejection, saying that EMBO should stop publishing just biochemistry, and that they needed to appreciate the importance of quantitative cell biology. The paper was ultimately sent to review and accepted. What was also very positive was that a later review of the scope of The EMBO Journal came to a similar conclusion. That resulted in my appointment to the editorial advisory board of The EMBO Journal (I was not an EMBO member at the time). The positive message is that the journal very much welcomed receiving feedback. That was what made me like the journal. I felt that the journal was ready to listen, to change.This is not my journal. It is the community’s journal. I am just playing a role, putting in some time and effort. There are a lot of things that I do not see and other young people could see, and I am looking for inspiration there, to listen and translate those things into good policies for the journal. I think that this is important and I think that this is at the basis of what I want to be as a chief editor.     

Hongyuan Yang: Tracking lipids,one droplet at a time

Hongyuan Yang investigates lipid trafficking and lipid droplet biogenesis.

Hongyuan Yang grew up in a small city east of Beijing, China. From his childhood, Hongyuan recalls that “food was not abundant, so I was hungry at times, but education was free and good.” Driven by his curiosity for science, after completing his undergraduate studies at Peking University Health Science Center, China, he enrolled at Columbia University, NY, for his doctoral training. Under the guidance of his advisor, Dr. Stephen Sturley, Hongyuan studied lipids in budding yeast. The laboratory’s research department fostered a strong interest in lipids and atherosclerosis, and after earning his PhD, Hongyuan obtained a faculty position at the National University of Singapore (NUS) in 1999. In 2007, he moved to the University of New South Wales (UNSW) in Sydney, Australia, to continue his scientific journey exploring lipids. We contacted Hongyuan to learn more about his career and interests.Hongyuan Robert Yang. Photo courtesy of UNSW.What interested you about lipids?My five-year doctoral study focused entirely on the enzymes Sterol O-Acyltransferases (SOAT, also known as ACAT, Acyl-CoA Cholesterol Acyltransferases), which catalyze the formation of sterol esters from sterols/cholesterol and fatty acyl CoAs (1). SOATs, integral membrane proteins of the ER, are potential therapeutic targets for heart disease and Alzheimer’s disease. Since then, I have been fascinated by two things related to SOAT: first, what happens upstream of SOAT, i.e., how exogenous cholesterol reaches SOAT/ER; and second, what happens downstream of SOAT, i.e., how its product—cholesterol esters—is stored in cells in the form of lipid droplets (LDs).These are fundamental questions in cell biology. While reading on how cholesterol arrives at the ER for esterification by SOAT/ACAT in the late 1990s, I realized that the trafficking of most lipids was poorly characterized with little molecular insight. Significant progress has been made in the last 20 years, but the lack of tools that track the movement of lipids has hampered our understanding of the selectivity, efficacy, and kinetics of lipid trafficking. Few cell biologists cared about LDs ∼20 years ago, even though LDs are prominent cellular structures in many disease conditions. Each LD comprises a hydrophobic core of storage lipids (triglycerides and sterol esters) wrapped by a monolayer of phospholipids. Largely considered inert lipid granules, LDs originate from the ER and are relatively simple cellular structures as compared with other organelles (see image). Now, we know that LDs are not that simple: their biogenesis is tightly regulated, they actively interact with other organelles, and they regulate many aspects of cellular function as well as disease progression. Astonishingly, we still have little understanding of how LDs originate from the ER. I am very much intrigued by the complexity of these two seemingly simple cellular processes, i.e., lipid trafficking and LD biogenesis.What are some of the scientific questions currently of interest in your laboratory?We are currently focusing on how LDs originate from the ER. The first significant paper from my own laboratory was the discovery of seipin as a key regulator of LD formation (2). Results from many groups have demonstrated that seipin can organize the formation of LDs; however, the exact molecular function of seipin remains mysterious. Our data suggest that seipin may directly impact the level and/or distribution of lipids such as phosphatidic acid near sites of LD biogenesis, and the effect of seipin deficiency on LD formation is secondary to changes in local lipids. We are now working hard to test this hypothesis. Moreover, data from my laboratory and others indicated that nonbilayer lipids may have a greater impact on the biogenesis of LDs than that of other ER-derived structures, such as COPII vesicles. This may result from the monolayer nature of the LD surface. We hope to dissect the dynamic changes of lipids at ER domains where LDs are born. More broadly, the ER is a fascinating organelle to me. The simple division of ER into sheets and tubules does not reflect the dynamic nature of this organelle. Dissecting the composition and organization of lipids and proteins of the ER would help answer key questions relating to LD biogenesis, and it is therefore one of our future directions.Another major focus is to understand how cholesterol and phosphatidylserine are moved between organelles. We have been working on how low-density lipoprotein (LDL)–derived cholesterol (LDL-C) reaches the ER for two decades. The release of LDL-C from lysosomes requires the Niemann Pick C1&2 proteins, whose malfunction causes lysosomal cholesterol accumulation and a lethal genetic disorder affecting young children. The Ara Parseghian Medical Research Foundation has led the way in supporting research into cholesterol trafficking, and I take this opportunity to thank their generous support. Once released from lysosomes, LDL-C is believed to reach the plasma membrane first and then the ER. We identified ORP2 as a possible carrier of LDL-C to the plasma membrane using a PI(4,5)P₂ gradient (3). There must be other carriers and/or pathways because ORP2 deficiency only causes a minor accumulation of cholesterol in lysosomes. Another interesting question is what prevents LDL-C from reaching the ER directly from lysosomes, given the close contact between lysosomes and the ER. We reported that ORP5 may bring LDL-C directly to the ER (4). However, it was later found that ORP5 binds and transfers phosphatidylserine, not cholesterol. Thus, our observed link between ORP5 and cholesterol is through some indirect yet unknown mechanism. We have been perplexed by these observations for many years, but a recent study demonstrated that phosphatidylserine is required for the trafficking of LDL-C, establishing a close link between cholesterol and phosphatidylserine (5). We are now trying to understand how the trafficking and distribution of cholesterol, phosphatidylserine, and PI(4,5)P₂ are interconnected. For a long time, I felt that it was impossible to figure out the molecular details governing the cellular trafficking of lipids due to redundant pathways and a lack of tools to track lipids. Recent progress in this field has given me hope.Lipid droplets in a HeLa cell are shown in red (BODIPY), with their surface in green. DAPI (blue) labels DNA. Image courtesy of Hongyuan Yang.What kind of approach do you bring to your work?Besides honesty and open-mindedness, we emphasize rigor and comprehensiveness. We often make our initial discoveries in cell-based screens. This approach has many advantages, but it also gives rise to artifacts and cell-line specific observations. We aim to complement our initial findings with biochemical and structural analyses in vitro as well as animal studies in vivo. To further establish the reproducibility of our data, I often ask my close friends and collaborators to independently repeat the key findings of a study before submission. It generally takes a long time for us to complete a study, but I believe the effort will pay off in the long run.What did you learn during your training that helped prepare you for being a group leader? What were you unprepared for?During my PhD at Columbia, I was most impressed with the general attitude of my mentors toward research. No matter how much they have achieved, they take every new experiment and every poster presentation seriously.As I did not have postdoctoral training, I was somewhat unprepared at the beginning of my independent career. One difficult challenge was knowing when to finish a paper and project. We often kept working and working. I have now gotten a lot better.You’ve done research on three continents throughout your career. Can you tell us about some of these transitions?During the last year of my doctoral studies at Columbia, I was offered a lecturer position by the Department of Biochemistry at NUS. It was a very hard decision to leave the United States, but I was excited by the prospect of starting my own laboratory at a top institution. Life at NUS was very good overall, despite some struggles. I had to make ∼700 slides for teaching during the first year and my start-up fund was 10,000 Singapore dollars (~6,000 USD). But the graduate students were fully supported by the university, and most of them are hard working and talented. The crucial screen that led to the discovery of seipin as a key regulator of LD formation was performed at NUS (2). I enjoyed my time at NUS, where I was promoted and tenured. However, my family and I could not get used to the heat and humidity. We looked for a place with better climate, and it happened that my current employer, UNSW, had an opening in 2006. Moving continents with two kids was very disruptive, and I had zero publications in 2007. Our work on seipin was delayed and almost got scooped. I was also very worried about funding in Australia since I hardly knew anyone and the funding system. It turned out that the Australian community was very supportive of our research from day one. I have also been very fortunate to receive generous support from the Ara Parseghian Medical Research Foundation, based in the United States, after my move to Sydney.Hongyuan’s “metabolism team” after a basketball game. Photo courtesy of Hongyuan Yang.What has been the biggest accomplishment in your career so far?While I am mostly recognized for discovering seipin’s role in lipid droplet formation, I am prouder of the work we have done on lipid trafficking and the oxysterol binding proteins. We struggled mightily for the first 15 years. At one point in 2015, I seriously considered abandoning this line of research. But we persisted and discovered their roles in regulating plasma membrane PI(4,5)P₂ and cholesterol, as well as in lipid droplet formation (3, 6).What has been the biggest challenge in your career so far?The biggest challenge has to do with the subject of my research topic: the fundamental cell biology of lipids. The sorting, distribution, and storage of cellular lipids are clearly very important topics in biology, but they are sometimes too fundamental to explain to funding agencies and new students. These days, lipid research is not as “sexy” as other topics. But there are so many unanswered questions in lipidology. I strongly believe that lipid research is going to be the next “big thing” as new techniques such as cryoEM now allow us to appreciate lipids and membrane proteins with unprecedented clarity.Who were your key influences early in your career?Besides mentors and teachers at Columbia, I really enjoyed reading and studying the works by Drs. Mike Brown and Joseph Goldstein, Ta-Yuan Chang, and Scott Emr. While they were not my teachers, their work inspired and impacted many young scientists, including me.What is the best advice you have been given?I have been given many pieces of great advice during my career. The best one in my view is “Less is more.” I was once told, “You would be better off with a lab of six than twelve.” Initially, I did not get it because I thought that a bigger group would allow me to explore more directions and be more productive. The reality is that, as a little-known junior researcher, few experienced people would join my laboratory. Funding is also a major limiting factor. Supervising a large number of students is fulfilling, but it also takes away some of my own time to think critically about the projects. I have largely kept my group under six, and this allows me to better supervise and guide the trainees. People say, “Once your team has more than 15 members, you become a manager instead of a scientist.” My own experience corroborates that statement because I struggled quite a bit when my group reached 12 at one point.What hobbies do you have?I am heavily into sports, especially basketball and tennis. I follow the NBA closely, and Jeremy Lin is my hero. I still play basketball at least twice a week. I am the captain of a basketball team comprised of scientists working on metabolism (see image). We play real, refereed basketball games against local teams during conferences. As I am getting older, I have also picked up tennis. I watch coaching videos on YouTube but still need a lot of work on my forehand. Through sports, I learned teamwork and the spirit of fighting to the last second. If I were not a scientist, I would probably run a sports-related business.What has been your biggest accomplishment outside of the laboratory?I got married and had children relatively early. Both of my kids are now in college and they appear to be decent human beings. I have been extremely lucky because my wife did most of the heavy lifting in looking after the kids. It was still a struggle for me to balance work and parental duties during the early days of my independent career. I am very proud and happy with where we are as a family right now.Any tips for a successful research career?Everyone is unique. Knowing your strengths and especially your weaknesses can be crucial to your success. My undergraduate training was in medicine and health management, and my PhD work focused on genetics and cell biology, so my understanding of physical chemistry is rather inadequate. I am also very bad at developing new methods. To alleviate these deficiencies, I constantly monitor new methods in my field and I purposefully look for collaborators with strong chemistry backgrounds. I have benefited immensely from such efforts.     

Borrowed robes

Should scientists indulge their fantasies by writing fiction? Subject Categories: Careers, Economics, Law & Politics, History & Philosophy of Science

Like a substantial fraction of the literate population, I have a collection of unpublished novels in the drawer. Six of them in fact. Some of them were composed in barely more than a week, and others I have been struggling to complete for over 10 years: so maybe it is more accurate to say five and a half. Anyhow, most of them are good to go, give or take a bit of editorial redlining. Or, as my helpful EMBO editor would say, the removal of thousands of unnecessary adverbs and dubiously positioned commas.What do I write about and why? My style is not unique but rather particular. I write fiction in the style of non‐fiction. My subject matter is somewhere in the general realms of science fiction, alternate history and political drama. Putting these ingredients together, and taking account of my purported day job as a serious scientist, it is easy to see why my fictional work is potentially subversive—which is one reason why I have been rather reluctant thus far to let it out of the drawer. At the very least, I should take pains to conceal my identity, lest it corrupts perceptions of my scientific work. Even if I regularly tell my students not to believe everything they read, it would impose far too great a burden on them if they came to question my peer‐reviewed articles purely on the basis of untrue statements published in my name, spoken by jaded politicians, washed‐up academics or over‐credulous journalists. Even if they are imaginary. Real journalists are theoretically bound by strict rules of conduct. But imaginary ones can do whatever they like.Today, I noticed a passage in one of these unpublished works that is clearly written in the style of a young William Shakespeare, dealing with a subject matter that fits neatly into one of his most famous plays. In fact, the illusion was such that I was sure I must have lifted the passage from the play in question and set about searching for the quote, which I then could and should cite. Yet, all Internet searches failed to find any match. The character in whose mouth I placed the words was depicted as being in a delirious state where the boundaries of fact and fiction in his life were already blurred; borrowed identities being one of the themes of the entire novel and arguably of my entire oeuvre. But am I guilty here of plagiarism or poetry, in adopting the borrowed identity of my national playwright?In another work, I lay great emphasis on the damaging role of mitochondrial reactive oxygen species (ROS) as the cause of biological ageing. I have even grafted this explanation onto a thinly disguised version of one of my most valued colleagues. Although there is some support for such a hypothesis from real science, including some papers that I have myself co‐authored, it is also a dangerously broad generalization that leads easily into wrong turnings and misconstructions—let alone questionable policies and diet advice. But, by advancing this misleading and overly simplistic idea in print, have I potentially damaged not only my own reputation, but that of other scientists whom I respect? Even if the author’s identity remains hidden.In one novel, I fantasize that nuclear weapons, whilst they do undoubtedly exist, have in fact been engineered by their inventors so as never actually to work, thus preventing their possible misuse by vainglorious or lunatic politicians unconcerned with the loss of millions of lives and planetary ruin. But if any insane national leader—of which there are unfortunately far too many—would actually come to believe that my fiction in the style of non‐fiction were true, they might indeed risk the outbreak of nuclear war by starting a conventional one in order to secure their strategic goals.Elsewhere, I vindicate one author of published claims that were manifestly based on falsified data, asserting him to have instead been the victim of a conspiracy launched to protect the family of an otherwise much respected American President. None of which is remotely true. Or at least there is no actual evidence supporting my ridiculous account.I have great fun writing fiction of this kind. It is both liberating and relaxing to be able to ignore facts and the results of real experiments and just invent or distort them to suit an imaginary scenario. In an age when the media and real politicians have no qualms about propagating equally outrageous “alternative facts”, I can at least plead innocent by pointing out that my lies are deliberate and labelled as such, even if people might choose to believe them.In a further twist, the blurb I have written to describe my latest work characterizes it as the “semi‐fictionalized” biography of a real person, who was, in fact, a distant relative of mine. But if it is semi‐fictionalized, which bits are true and which are made up? Maybe almost the whole thing is invented? Or maybe 99% of it is based on demonstrable facts? Maybe the subject himself concocted his own life story and somehow planted it in falsified documents and newspaper articles to give it an air of truth. Or maybe the assertion that the story is semi‐fictionalized is itself a fictional device, that is, a lie. Perhaps the central character never existed at all.It is true (sic) that the most powerful fiction is grounded in fact—if something is plausible, it is all the more demanding of our attention. And, it can point the way to truths that are not revealed by a simple catalogue of factual information, such as in a scientific report.But I have already said too much: if any of my novels ever do find their way into print, and should you chance to read them, I will be instantly unmasked. So maybe I’ll have to slot in something else in place of my pseudo‐Shakespearean verse, mitochondrial ROS hypothesis, defunct weapons of mass destruction and manipulated data manipulation.     

The most unkindest cut

When universities need to make staffing cuts to balance the books, do they always do so in the fairest and most rational manner?

Universities, like most other large organizations, undergo periodic restructuring, expansions and contractions, driven largely by changes in their balance sheet. The contractions are often abrupt and painful. Typically, this outcome is preceded by a period when the top management already perceived a growing problem but postponed action because of its debilitating effects on morale and on the organization’s core functions, in the hope that “something might turn up” that would obviate the need for drastic cuts. Most often, something does not turn up, and the cuts end up being even more severe.The first sign of trouble is usually a “message to all staff” that seems to come out of the blue, couched in the most anodyne of terms, or even trying to put a positive spin on what is a fundamentally destructive process. But staff about to be made redundant do not appreciate being referred to as “person‐years”. It also seems completely pointless to dress up more or less arbitrary decisions on whom to terminate as “negotiations”, thus apportioning a share of blame to the union representatives who have not much say in these “negotiations” anyway. Although the cuts typically affect non‐academic staff, such as lab technicians, IT and audiovisual support, financial administrators, providers of student welfare services or travel and hospitality arrangers, academic staff at all levels are sometimes affected as well.Most of us can read between the lines and find disingenuous statements of this type insulting rather than reassuring. Let me translate this for you into plain English:“Due to the fact that our senior management has totally screwed up the university’s finances, we need to decrease our staff costs by 20%. Since most staff would not accept to do the same work for 20% less pay, we will instead just fire 20% of the staff. If you are one of the 20% who are able to do your job and have been properly trained, we strongly advise you to immediately seek employment elsewhere. After all, you might find yourselves fired in the next round of cuts, if these ones don’t prove sufficient”.The duties of the 20% who leave will be transferred to the 80% who remain. Since they will be required to carry out additional tasks beyond those that they currently undertake but were never trained to perform in the first place, it is natural that many of them will go on permanent sick leave or retire early, thus reducing our staff costs further and avoiding undue stress on persons we have failed to train properly.As a result, academic staff currently engaged on less quantifiable activities such as research and teaching must shoulder some of the burden. We hope to avoid firing academic staff but be aware that you may also be terminated if performance targets are missed, especially if you are unable to undertake simple obligations to help the university to function properly instead of wasting all your energy on research and teaching.The next phase of this process will be the outsourcing of many of the duties that the poorly trained 80% of staff and academics cannot do or are unwilling to do. We will invite tenders from different companies and always pick the lowest bidder, regardless of the quality of the services they are able to perform. However, be aware that academic staff who make use of these services must employ the companies contracted by the university and no others. You will also have to pay for these services from research grants or other income.Spin‐off companies that you have created could also bid for some of these services, which might enable you to cover the costs during the 2–3 years before your fledgling company goes bankrupt.Please also consider if and how you can outsource your own research and teaching, which would enable us to fire academic staff as well, in any future cost‐cutting exercise.If this process is successful, the university hopes to recycle any excess savings into a new round of Strategic Interconvertibility and Sustainable Innovation (SISI) grants.And above all, please do remember and implement our university’s new slogan “The only useful research is market research”. Kit from HR, aka Howy Jacobs