Integrity

Months after I left, today, I really can not pin point why I lost interest in my previous experiment, but I think the beginning of the downward spiral began with this chain of events: this one person was doing something that I didn't think was scientifically correct, but it was what the boss wanted to see, so he embraced it without questioning. This of course infuriated me (to my credit, I also cross checked it) and I was a very vocal critique of this result ever being published - they backed off and this never got published. I had won the battle, but did I win the war?

Instead of being happy about it, (and I don't know if this has anything to do with being brought up poor or being brought up catholic), but I was consumed with guilt. I always asked myself, if I were a professor and had a postdoc challenging my baby, how would I have felt? And I also understand the pressure to publish - here was everyone in our field showing background rejection and hints of signal even, and there is no telling how accurate their own work is. So how does one keep their head above the water? Just jump in the cesspool/vicious circle, no? This one time this guy I dated told me how he bought his first car, a regular 4-door sedan, from money from a lucrative summer job he had, when he was 16, but when he brought it home, his dad immediately bought him an SUV saying that he didn't want his only son driving a tiny sedan when there were all those SUV's on the road that might squish him. It was one of those perplexing moments of life to me - on the one hand he was right, on the other hand it only adds to the problem. I guess that is what makes one a cool person - if you can defy the tide, and stick to your principles. But this is not easy when you have to, every once in two years, show your results to funding committees and what not. So on the one hand I understand the need to publish, even maybe the wrong result, but on the other hand if science doesn't have integrity I don't know what does.

So anyway, it would have maybe been different if my former boss had put up as fierce a fight as I did, but the way things turned out, my victory made me pensive - I told myself I will have to be a little bit more tamed, since I also see the other side. I told myself I am not going to get that involved in my next experiment. And then I joined this experiment, larger, by a factor of about 20, and I thought this kind of thing probably doesn't happen here too much - because there are more people to ask the moral questions (and also because I don't remember this happening in my PhD experiment; but now in retrospect, I think, as a grad student I was pretty shielded from these politics back then).

Alas, my first collaboration meeting would teach me otherwise. My boss and the Canadian contingent, viciously opposed a rushed publication and were met by 'but we have to be first', 'but if we don't, we won't get money'. I didn't have any strong feelings either way, since I was new. The people I work with lost their battle, the let's-race-to-publish people won and I watched them in exasperation. To this day I never told anyone in my current experiment the real reason I left my previous place - I wanted to tell the whole story many times, but I wasn't sure what purpose I would achieve by saying this. Because even though I won that battle, I didn't feel good at the end - I had a feeling that I was better lost to the experiment, and in fact I did leave - that is not a very inspiring success story to tell. To the credit of my former boss, I was told his recommendation letter for me carried hints of appreciation for my strong critique.

Today, it was heart breaking to see this one professor who I drew an exact parallel to myself in this sense, his shoulders all slouched and he would continue so for the next few days. He talked and joked excessively; I read some place how human beings use humor to cope with distress or grief - actually I myself do this when I am in extreme distress. And I remembered, back at the height of my own battle, many a night in Montréal, that I spent with friends and co-workers, sipping beer, discussing the hows, the pros and the cons of the good fight we fought and the outcome of our win - we always thought we fought to not sell our souls, but at the end, I am not sure our souls were not shattered. I hope this professor has good friends back home in Vancouver… and good beer!

And maybe… just maybe journalists don't have to sell their souls… but probably they do, just maybe not as much… ;)