From my youngest age I was always fascinated by the idea I had of scientists. A little crazy, turned away from the world around them - not to say outlaws - but also brilliant and smart. They also seemed extremely passionate about their research subject and fulfilled by their work. I probably got this view of the mind from the movies I saw on TV. So my mind was made up. I was going to do everything I could to belong to this class of supreme beings that I idolized. Needless to say, this vision of the world of research emanated purely from the exuberant imagination of a young boy and not from any in-depth study of reality.
Having completed my education in Germany, the University of Karlsruhe was the best entry point for me to study chemistry - the field I am particularly interested in. Especially because there was the possibility of an exchange with France as soon as the "Vordiplom" (DEUG equivalent university qualification) was obtained. The acquisition of this first university degree was linked to the first lessons about the academic world related to research. It is worth remembering that the separation that exists in the minds of some French academics between the world of research, associated with organizations such as the CNRS, and the world of higher education, associated with universities, does not exist in Germany (as in most countries).
First lesson: we can do as we like ! Nothing is compulsory except the partial exams at the end of the year and the oral exam. I have rarely experienced such a systematically disorganized system. I remember one exam in advanced physical chemistry that I took without being able to take the corresponding course. I passed the exam anyway and the physical chemistry question was settled. Needless to say, I never properly took that course. Second lesson: Nobody cares! Unlike in school, where teachers were always concerned about their students and were always inventing ways to make their subject understandable and interesting, this was not always the case at university. It didn't take long to realize that the teachers' time was precious and we - the students - were taking up too much of it. There were also practical papers where some teaching assistants got a kick out of scaring away most of the students because there were too many anyway and the toughest and most talented would survive. An accelerated version of Darwinian evolution, so to speak. Third lesson: science is pretty difficult and complicated. I hadn't seen that in my childhood dreams. I really had to strain my gray matter and it wasn't enough to shine diligently. These lessons were not all easy to learn, and I was increasingly adamant in my idea to see how things were going elsewhere, especially across the Rhine, in Strasbourg, which had privileged relations with Germany.
The partnership that existed between my home institution and a chemical engineering school in Strasbourg, France, facilitated my transfer. Needless to say, I saw this so-called "Grande Ecole" as nothing more than a somewhat antiquated name for "university," so I didn't worry about minor accessory differences. For my part, I found the experience particularly successful. I learned three languages in addition to chemistry, had a well-structured schedule, and the real possibility of completing my degree in 3 years - something that was impossible in Germany at the time. On the other hand, this meant that I could not be interested in all the details, nor could I hope to understand all the subjects before I went into the next ones. My first real surprise concerned my future plans.
Historically, for me, the PhD represented an obligatory passage for any academic career worthy of the name. So understand my bafflement when others tried - in vain, I assure you - to convince me that I could aspire to something better with an engineering degree. But in retrospect I have to admit that the doctorate seems to be particularly frowned upon - wrongly - in many French companies, whereas in Germany it was precisely this doctorate that gave access to the highest positions in a company. With this lesson in mind, I can only advise you to think twice about this path, because you are heading in one direction or, in the best case, in a narrowed path. But as far as I was concerned, it was really what I wanted to do and nothing could have dissuaded me. Second surprise: to be eligible to register for a thesis, you had to go through a certain diploma (DEA), my engineering diploma wouldn't do. Fortunately, it was theoretically possible to get this diploma at the same time as the third year of engineering school. In practice, this proved to be more complicated, somewhat taxing and penalizing, but ultimately doable.
Needless to say, stubborn as I am, I insisted with the head of the DEA program until he gave in to my request. But I didn't quite understand the system, which required that you choose your host lab from a selection specific to each DEA. The lab I was aiming for for my thesis was not part of that selection. Eventually, the head of DEA at the time - no doubt moved by such naiveté combined with strong determination - accepted me into his lab. This was the best thing that could have happened to me. The subject was as good as done for me, and staying in that lab allowed me to more quickly unravel the mysteries of the DEA course and the thesis waiting for me. It didn't take long for me to realize that my immediate interest lay in grading well on the DEA to win a ministerial scholarship. But that's when my calculus turned against me. The accumulation of the third year of engineering school with the DEA pushed me to my limits and my ranking on the DEA suffered. By the end of the summer, I had my engineering degree in the bag and finished my DEA without a scholarship.
I had a particular laboratory in mind for the thesis and applied in good time. In the absence of a ministerial grant, I made several other applications for support, in particular for a so-called BDI scholarship for engineers. Since I had completed my studies at the engineering school at 1st rank, I thought I had a good chance of success. However, as I did several times later, I had to realize that it was not enough to have a good project, but that one also had to agree with one's fate, incidentally also with the political decision-makers. At that time it was the case that the BDI requests only had a real chance with a partner like the region or a company. The region didn't want me, and the subject wasn't suitable for industrial cooperation. So out goes the BDI track opportunity. In short, all attempts to finance my thesis had failed. The only options left were for me to participate in a contract that the lab was likely to win, or to hope that the ministry would award additional grants. In the meantime, my future dissertation director had made it possible for me to join his lab by funding an internship stipend for a few months. His moral and material support was very important for me and I thank him again very much. In October this year, fortune smiled on me and I received an acceptance letter from the ministry, which had distributed more additional scholarships than expected this year. There was only one detail left: my lab was not yet one of the admission labs of the PhD school. But fortunately, my topic lent itself to collaboration with another lab, which in turn was one of those chosen. I also gained a valuable thesis co-director. On the other hand, I was behind in the usual PhD student's schedule and of course it was too late to apply for a supervision position to tutor students. All the places had already been taken. This is - it seems to me - another distinct French quirk. There are standard calendars for many things and there is little flexibility if you never come into contact with that system. Too bad if it's not your fault of being out of sync and otherwise just what you deserved.
The thesis itself was an extremely valuable and formative experience, both academically and personally. On a personal level, it was first about breaking my ego. It was done in the blink of an eye. All it took was a text decorated with comments written in red all over the page, with words crossed out, sentences rearranged, asterisks to refer to additional comments, and so on. This text was a small report on my work that I had given to my thesis advisor. To me, it had been perfect. How could anyone find so much to change? It could only harm my original masterpiece, couldn't it ? It was far from the last page that would come back to me with such embellishments in the years to come. My challenge was to significantly reduce the changes in red. At the same time, I knew my text had been read. Today, I wish the research projects I regularly submit to organizations that fund them would come back to me in this way. Lots of comments and annotations in red, rather than meaningless remarks that just make you wonder if the document has been read, but that's another story. Let's go back to the dissertation. The other thing I learned is that research is a tough job. It was better to be humble and stay put, which also allowed for greater job satisfaction. In the beginning, I was rarely satisfied with my results, I even found it difficult to accept them as results worth mentioning. Then I understood that I would not get the Nobel Prize immediately, not even after the thesis. In fact, we progressed in research in very small steps, sometimes backwards, and even those at the best level often did not make a big leap from one day to the next, but accumulated a fantastic amount of these small steps that lead them to their greatness.
The end of the thesis was marked by a whole series of very fundamental questions and probably represented the most uncertain phase of my little researcher's life. I quickly came to the conclusion that I wanted to continue in academic research, either at university or in one of the major research organizations. At that time, only the CNRS in France - Europe's largest public research organization - seemed credible to me, but this idea was associated with a lack of information compared to the 36 research organizations that exist in France. In any case, from my conversations with others involved in research, a unanimous recommendation emerged: I should do a postdoctoral internship first and preferably abroad. It was also better to change subjects to demonstrate both geographical and academic mobility. I heeded all this good advice and thus found myself in early 2001 on the other side of the English Channel, in Oxford, ready to enter biochemistry and biophysics, and curious to be able to compare English research with the German and French systems.
The first good surprise reserved for me was the reception at the university. During my administrative operations at the university in France, I always had the impression of disturbing my interlocutors and preventing them from doing infinitely more important things than taking care of a graduate student (or a researcher). At the University of Oxford, it was very different. The staff were very anxious to do everything they could to ensure that I was ready to go quickly and under good conditions. Formalities that had kept me busy for weeks in France could be taken care of in a few days. So I quickly turned to my research project, which offered me the second good surprise. The relationship with my new boss was very cordial and scientifically extremely stimulating, as it had been during my thesis. It surprised me because I had chosen a prestigious laboratory that had many more employees than my previous team. Despite his celebrity and busy schedule, my new boss was always available to me and there was always eye-to-eye conversation thanks to his humility and respect for others. This is in contrast to situations I have sometimes observed in France, where there are scientifically rather mediocre "little chefs" who already think they are the next Nobel Prize. Respect for others was a constant in England. Regardless of hierarchical level, everyone, from the youngest trainee to the most senior member of staff, was concerned to reach a consensus acceptable to all. Sometimes this could lead to deadlocks and hinder the good progress of a project. Overall, I have excellent memories of my postdoctoral internship on the other side of the English Channel, with continuous collaboration and a research system that shows we can do things differently.
To give a recent example: In the evaluation of researchers, we unfortunately observe in France a drift towards so-called "bibliometric" methods. These are quantified indicators, fraught with many biases, but presented to us as the only way to reasonably evaluate the large number of researchers in France. These "scores" are calculated from the number of publications by a researcher, possibly taking into account the "quality" of the journal, and the number of citations of these publications by other researchers. Given the inadequacies of these numbers, a whole zoology of increasingly complex and incomprehensible indicators has developed: Impact factors, factors h, a, y, and index m. You didn't quite understand which one was the right one and why? Neither do I. The pinnacle of the matter is that if you publish a very large silliness that is cited many times to demonstrate its nonsense, it will boost your career tremendously ! In England it is the researchers themselves who give a small selection of their most recent papers that are most relevant to their evaluation. Doesn't it make more sense for a researcher themselves to say what is important in their work, rather than having it determined by statistical analysis ?
But there are not only good examples in England. An important and current problem concerns the precariousness of researchers, which can last until very late in their careers. This precarious funding varies from one year to five years and is linked to a scientific project that must be completed within the given time. This way of working leads to research focused on productivity at any cost to show that one has fulfilled one's contract well. The scientific substance of projects is often amputated to avoid overly uncertain or risky research - which is, however, often the most promising - and to favor "easy" paths that lead to immediate results, but with less impact. In France, the research system is in transition and is rapidly moving towards such project research. One factor of stability that still exists is the system of permanent positions, which relieve the researcher of existential questions and allow him - theoretically - to devote himself entirely to his research. Nevertheless, the resources made available to researchers are diminishing, and without additional project funding it is impossible to carry out ambitious and forward-looking research. Another perversion of this system is that obtaining such funding is extremely competitive, as there are not enough resources to fund all the projects that deserve it. Suddenly, every researcher has to spend considerable time preparing applications that are unlikely to succeed. One may legitimately wonder whether it would not be more effective to distribute the funds fairly, thus freeing up all the administrative and evaluation staff who have to deal with this project system, as well as the researchers, who could all devote 100% of their time to research again.
You've probably guessed by now, when I talk about research in France like this, it's because I found a job there after living in England. My little boy's dream came true, but as we know, dreams are often a very watered down version of reality. Part of this job that was completely absent from my dreams involves administrative tasks, reports, files, applications, proposals, mission assignments, prospective studies, and other information that must be provided in continuity. Not that it isn't an intellectual challenge to fill out these tasks properly, with forms that have an inexhaustible capacity for metamorphosis and are full of words I didn't know before. But I still think these efforts would be better spent on solving research questions, not filling out files that gather dust. My bet is that if we freed scientists from all administrative tasks, we could more than double the valuable scientific productivity in France. No more bad rankings from Shanghai, the disastrous report from MM. Even and Perez, etc. But we are not there yet. However, we are regularly promised administrative simplifications. But beware of nuance: in fact, these are simplifications for those who process the files, not for those who fill them out. To avoid misunderstanding, the relationships I have had with the administrative services have always been entirely constructive and cordial, and I do not wish to throw stones at them. They too submit to the imperatives that come "from above".
After all these criticisms, one may ask whether there are any good things about the profession of research. The answer is yes, and this site would not suffice to quote them. But my intention is mainly to warn about the hidden faces of this profession, little known by politicians (which explains the aberrant decisions that are taken), but also by the general public. I could observe two extreme attitudes. One is too idyllic and consists in believing that scientists can do anything and solve any problem if only they seriously study the subject. If it is true that a discovery can change the world in a very short time, we must accept that these discoveries are basically the result of chance. That explains the other hypercritical attitude of not trusting scientists at all, accusing them of wasting a lot of money. Louis Pasteur has said it, luck only smiles on well-prepared minds, and here lies the real task of the researcher: to be prepared and trained to recognise when luck is finally smiling on you as you move forward while it pouts at you.
If I had to give advice to future researchers who may have had the same childhood dream as me, I would tell them that you have to be ambitious and deeply love this profession in order to face reality, which is not as beautiful and pure as in your dreams. Scientists are not saints, they are human beings, and criticism - justified or not - from your colleagues can be harsh. Your journey will likely be lined with uncertainty and there will be few direct and linear paths. Question the status quo and don't blindly accept mediocre solutions when the remedy exists elsewhere. Hang in there, persevere, and don't be too shocked by the discrepancies between common sense and observed practices. At the end of this adventure, there may be that magic moment, the ultimate reward where the researcher... will have found.