“I had come to the realization that our system of scientific publication is governed by people who have no idea what knowledge is.”

Via my Facebook Files: this, quoted in its entirety.

Jean-François Gariépy

This week, I resigned from my position at Duke University with no intent to solicit employment in state-funded academic research positions in the foreseeable future. Many reasons have motivated this choice, starting with personal ones: I will soon be a father and want to be spending time with my son at home.

Other reasons have to do with research academia itself. Throughout the years, I have been discovering more and more of the inner workings of academia and how modern scientific research is done and I have acquired a certain degree of discouragement in face of what appears to be an abandonment by my research community of the search for knowledge. I found scientists to be more preoccupied by their own survival in a very competitive research environment than by the development of a true understanding of the world.

By creating a highly-competitive environment that relies on the selection of researchers based on their “scientific productivity,” as it is referred to, we have populated the scientific community with what I like to call “chickens with no head,” that is, researchers who can produce multiple scientific articles per year, none of which having any significant impact on our understanding of the world. Because of this, science is moving forward similarly to how a headless chicken walks, with no perceivable goal. This issue reveals itself in a series of noxious conditions that are affecting me and my colleagues: a high number of scientific articles with fraudulent data, due to the pressures of the “publish or perish” system, makes it impossible to know if a recent discovery is true or not; a large portion of the time of a scientist is spent just writing grants so that they can be submitted to 5-10 agencies in the hope that one of them will accept; and our scientific publication system has become so corrupted that it is almost impossible to get a scientific article published without talking one-on-one with the editor before submitting the article.

Some of my best friends at Duke have told me that I sounded “bitter” when I expressed these concerns. I insure you that I am not and that I am writing these lines with the nonchalance and bliss of a man who has found other ways to be happy and to satisfy his own scientific curiosity, ways that do not involve the costly war of attrition for state money that modern scientists are condemned to engage in. My friends have also pointed out that I should not be “discouraged” by the difficulties faced as a scientist, that I should continue to “fight.” Again, they are wrong; discouragements due to failures have never kept me down. I have never been afraid of failures and of retrying, and retrying again; my scientific successes are what discouraged me, because I know how they were obtained.

My most important scientific articles were accepted in major journals because the editors had a favorable prejudice toward me or my co-authors; because I was insuring that I had a discussion with them before I submitted; or because the reviewers they chose happened to be close colleagues. The scientific publication system portrays itself as a strict system for the evaluation of the importance of individual scientific contributions to knowledge, but anyone who has participated to this system and became good at it knows that the true factors that influence the publication of a scientific work have to do with social networking and, in many cases, straight-out corruption. It is not surprising that such corrupt systems develop when the publishing of just one article in a major journal means that a researcher can claim his share of a multi-billion dollar flow of money coming from the government and private foundations for future work.

Of course, this does not mean that I will abandon all of my activities related to the search or dissemination of knowledge. I will still teach my courses in Biology and Artificial Intelligence at the University of the People, I will still publish my book, The Revolutionary Phenotype, which contains an important novel theory on the emergence of life. I will still publish the Season 2 of NEURO.tv, for which we have gathered amazing guests. I will still go talk science and have fun with the Drunken Peasants. And I will still spend my days trying to prove the Goldbach conjecture, although you probably won’t ever hear about it because I probably won’t succeed. In fact, my leave will likely give me more time to concentrate on these important activities. The reality is that throughout the years, my attention has drifted away from research academia, because I found other ways to satisfy my scientific curiosity that seemed more appealing and more genuine to me.

There is a general rejection of these alternative paths to knowledge dissemination in academia, but I have grown out of caring about it. Selling knowledge and prestige are the bread and butter of universities, so we should not be surprised to see the main recipients of the flow of money coming from well-wishing parents and governmental funding agencies dismiss the validity of other, less socially costly paths to knowledge dissemination. This reminds me of an event which vastly contributed to my discouragement about academia. I was in a scientific meeting in Switzerland a couple of years ago and I was having a discussion with the editor of one of the two most important scientific journals in the world. He was asking me and my PI about different young scientists to know what we thought about them. He did not seem so concerned about the quality of their work or the insight they provided on the world. He was asking about their reputation. I remember a question that he asked very seriously but that was hilarious to me:

“And David Eagleman, I saw his book, is he a good one?”

The editor later proceeded to explain to us why he was inquiring about the reputation of these scientists:

“I’m asking to make sure that I accept articles from reputable people. Because you see, at ******, we want to do real science, not Richard-Dawkins-type science.”

I remember discreetly crying for an hour that night at the conference’s bar, not because that man was unjustifiably mean to one of the most intelligent scientists in the world, but because I had come to the realization that our system of scientific publication is governed by people who have no idea what knowledge is.

I want to thank all the academics I have been interacting with in my career; especially those from Duke and the Université de Montréal. Academia is a weird thing; it is populated with very intelligent, motivated and brilliant people, who are operating in a system that is simply defective to the point of impeding on the very ability of these individuals to engage in a true search for knowledge. In this sense, I am leaving research academia for the same reason that I joined it 12 years ago: in search for a better way to satisfy my hunger for a scientific understanding the world.

Chalk one up to a “culture” of being politically correct over being wrong, but in a process of being a little less wrong every day, and with every step. 

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  1. Jed on September 6, 2015 at 15:14

    “This week, I resigned from my position at Duke University…”

    Frankly, I’d be more impressed if he resigned from Duck University.

  2. Wilbur on September 6, 2015 at 21:18

    As a former academic with several publications under my belt, I must agree. I am much happier unleashing my brain against my child and other things that make me happy. Academia is politics. 100%.

    • Gemma on September 6, 2015 at 23:53


      He is talking about corruption of the scientists’ minds. Or, does that fall under “politics”?

  3. Wilbur on September 7, 2015 at 07:50

    That’s right, Gemma. My experience was the same as above. I don’t want to get into it, but the author pointed to some things that were true for me that I hadn’t really noticed. Added to that we’re instances when, as a referee, I was asked to go easy on a report because the author was “important.” One was rejected by me, another referee, and an associate editor only to appear in print without any explanation other than that we no longer had responsibility.

    I got into academia thinking it was about learning, debating, moving knowledge ahead. Instead it is head down, hands over ears rushing to publish. The only way to do that is to pander to the editors and elders, say what someone in charge wants to hear, etc. The publication process does seem to require an editor to take charge before submission, which I didn’t realize was true for me until the author above mentioned it. “Send it to me. I’ll take care of it.” Good words to hear from an academic.

    But you can’t do that working on hard problems. For one, you’d publish too slowly and lose summer money, grants, etc. and might be assigned more teaching. Also, the editors would have to work too hard to understand it. One paper I submitted came back with one referee saying it was fantastic and another not so enthused. The editor complained that his workload was too high to allow him to read submissions, so he rejected ours.

    It’s was a constant battle. Life is much better outside academia.

  4. John on September 9, 2015 at 11:10

    I remember thinking in law school “these professor publications are so full of shit.”

    And they are. Self important word vomit equivalent to a person jerking off in public, explaining the significance of the act with “intellectual” words no one understands.

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