Leaving Academia Part 1: A Broken System

I regularly get asked by friends and family “how hard is it to do a PhD?” A few years ago my response would have been “it’s just another step on the educational ladder.” After 4 years of my PhD, and a global pandemic, my answer would now be very different. Between lab work, administrative duties, writing papers, applying for funding, equipment training and staying up to date on your field, surviving in academia is like trying to swim with a cannon ball tied around your ankles.
This is not to say that my PhD didn’t have ups alongside the downs and in a few months, after I’ve handed in my thesis, I might look wistfully back at the experience. Right now though, as I finish writing my thesis, my current mind-set is – get out before the world of academia does any more damage.
I have been part of academia for almost a decade (9 years and 1 month to be exact). After my undergraduate degree I did a Masters, followed by a year as a research technician, then on to a 4 year PhD. After spending what feels like a large portion of my life in academic institutions I am choosing not to pursue a career in academia. This might not sound like a huge realisation; the majority of PhD Graduates don’t stay in academia. But for the last 4 years that has always been my goal. When I started out I loved the scientific freedom, the semi-flexible approach to working hours and I have had the privilege to work alongside some of the smartest and kindest people I’ve ever known. Up until a few months ago my aim was to stay at my current institution and carry on in academia for as long as I could. However, several incidents occurred over the last few months which led me to a realisation that academia might not actually be where I want to stay. This forced me to do some self-reflection and I eventually came to a firm conclusion: academia is a broken system, one that I can’t keep working in.
I’m not writing this to scare anyone out of pursuing a career in academia. I just want to give an honest account of what led me to my decision (as much for my own benefit as anyone else’s). Without any further rambling, here are four key reasons I am choosing to leave academia:

Someone stole my pen!
I’m an early bird, much to the annoyance of my wife. I like to start in the lab at 7:00 am; so that I get the lab to myself for a few hours before it starts to get busy. Especially during the last year, when lab space was restricted due to social distancing, I came in early. On one particular Monday a few weeks ago I came in as usual and started to weigh out all the samples I needed for the rest of the week. It meant an hour stood in front of some scales weighing out milligrams of chemicals and labelling glass vials, but I figured it was better to get it all done in one sitting. The problem was as I started weighing samples I realised the pen I keep in my lab draw for labelling samples was missing, no doubt “borrowed” by someone else in the lab. I searched the whole lab, shelves, draws, my lab coat - not only could I not find my usual sharpie, there wasn’t a single pen to be found anywhere. I then spent the next 30 minutes trying to find another pen that I could use. Thanks to shortages in equipment there wasn’t a single pen to be found, I searched 5 floors of my building and couldn’t find a single marker pen. Eventually, after 40 minutes of searching I found one - in another building.
This story sounds like a stupid reason to leave academia – but how many jobs do you know that involve a 40 minute delay because someone stole a pen? It’s not supposed to sound petty, this incident is just an example of a general problem in academia: selfishness. On a daily basis a researcher has to deal with equipment going missing, consumable shortage and inconsiderate behaviour shown by other academics and researchers. Again, it sounds ridiculous but this incident made me ask myself: do I want to spend every day solving problems created by other people being inconsiderate? The honest answer is - no I don’t.

Death by bureaucracy
The Covid-19 pandemic put an end to in-person events, which meant no more scientific conferences. Recently, as vaccination levels have increased the possibility of in-person events is finally being discussed. Since conferences were a highlight of the first half of my PhD I wanted to try and attend one more before I finished. Coincidently, a few weeks ago I received an invite to a conference that happened virtually last year but this year, just two weeks before I hand in my thesis, it is taking place in-person (with limited numbers). I immediately signed up and sent away a request to my Faculty’s administrative department to get approval. Unfortunately I got an email back saying the only way to attend was to submit the new Covid travel paperwork. This consisted of 3 new forms, all of which needed to be signed by 3 different members of staff, as well as a 7 page risk assessment which had to list every possible risk that could happen during the trip - including the risks associated with leaving my house, driving the 30 minutes to get there, and eating food while I was at the conference. In the end I decided it wasn’t worth it and now I plan to attend virtually instead.
Once again this is one specific incident that might sound like no big deal, but it is symptomatic of a bigger problem. I have no problem filling out necessary paperwork, but there is a difference between necessary paperwork and bureaucracy for the sake of it. This isn’t the first time this has happened; finance departments regularly demand receipts in triplicate or won’t process orders unless you can prove you have found 4 other suppliers who are more expensive. Universities are obsessed with bureaucracy, everything takes twice as long as it should. It’s a difficult system to navigate and after 4 years I have decided enough is enough; if I have to fill out one more risk assessment my head might explode.

Your work = your life
Early in my PhD I thought research offered a huge amount of flexibility; I could do experiments on my own schedule (providing equipment was available). Then I could analyse data and write up results from the comfort of my own home. This idea was rapidly demolished 6 months into my first year when I was told by a supervisor “you should be in the lab 8 hours a day.” When I asked about when I should read or write papers the response was “that is what your spare time and weekends are for.” For many PhD students this is the reality; many senior staff preach about work life balance but very few actually practice it (or importantly let their students have it). The assumption is that academia is a way of life. And for much of my PhD I tried to maintain the work ethic that was expected of me, but it wasn’t sustainable. It eventually started to take a toll on my physical and mental health.
This “your work is your life” attitude is incredibly disheartening, and as much as I love doing research this approach is the main reason I want to leave. You can put everything you have into something and still be told “that’s not good enough.” Personally, I enjoy spending evenings sat watching TV with my partner, rather than writing another grant proposal that will just be rejected. I want to be able to use my holiday days without feeling guilty. I want a job where you are rewarded for going the extra mile, not somewhere where you are expected to dedicate your whole life to your work.

Change is slow
The problems I’ve outlined here are not new and they are not unique to me. People have been (and still are) trying to change to the problems I’ve mentioned. Zoe Ayres does an amazing job advocating for better mental health. My own institution is trying to create an Early Career Research Society to better support researcher wellbeing and rights. The one problem is – change is going to be slow. As I said above Universities are built on bureaucracy and paperwork, which means any significant change will likely take years.
Look at the state of the scientific publishing industry. Scientists spend hours doing research, then just as long writing papers. All so that journals can publish that work, only to charge scientists to the read those papers – and the person who wrote it receives no benefits for their time. Many senior academics use the excuse that publications help improve your career. But that is a flawed system, some fields publish more than others, some work just doesn’t produce a publication. I was recently rejected from a funding application because I didn’t have enough publications. All of the things that are wrong with academia show no sign of changing, at least not on a timeline I’m happy with. Maybe in a few years we will see supervisors treating students with respect, papers won’t be the currency used to work your way up the ladder, and academics won’t be forced to put their lives on hold to succeed. But until that happens I can’t keep working in academia.

This isn’t supposed to be a piece where I do nothing but complain about how hard my live has been. I am incredibly lucky that for the last 4 years I have done a job I truly love. But just because I enjoy it doesn’t mean there aren’t problems. As the title of this post says: academia is a broken system. Rather than focusing on the individual people, like so much of society, it focuses on arbitrary measures of success. This fact has driven me away from a career in academia. Some people might be able to look past it’s flaws, or maybe just haven’t experienced them. I wish anyone who does try to succeed in academia good luck, I hope you can overcome whatever challenges you face in the future.

My choice to leave academia isn’t all about my bad experiences, like I said there are parts that I wouldn’t change even if I could. So come back next week and I’ll talk about the things I am going to miss about academia.