On the loss of a friend

Earlier this week, Terry Wheeler passed away. Terry taught at McGill, and was curator of the Lyman Entomological Museum. He was a fantastic naturalist, praised the role of museums and natural history in modern science, and was generally quite a lot of fun. About 10 months ago, he was diagnosed with fairly aggressive brain cancer, which eventually took him from us.

Terry was what I would call an Exceptionally Very Good Person. Over the years that we knew each other, he was championing those who needed a voice, promoting those who needed more volume, and often acting as a sounding board for those in need, myself included.

In particular, Terry and I often ended up discussing what role modern universities played in the nurturing of the whole person, rather than the provision of qualifications or job-relevant skills, which may not be that surprising given we were both strong advocated of the importance of natural history. We also both came from a strong liberal arts background, and this culminated in my take on pastoral care in science, which I wrote a year ago this week. Which now seems very fitting.

We shared a connection to Newfoundland (him by birth, me by long residence), and we would often banter about Jam Jams, Jigg’s Dinner, and our fondness for turr and single malt whisky. We often joked about meeting there, on George Street, or up in Twilingate.

I will, however, always regret never meeting him in person. We connected online (first via Twitter, then via email), and I can only imagine what it must have been like to spend time with him in the field, in the kitchen, by the fire.

So tonight I break out the Laphroaig, turn up the Shannygannock, and celebrate the life of someone genuinely loved by so many.

Long may your big jib draw, Terry.

The locations of scientific meetings matter

Tags

conferences, diversity, LGBTQ

I think it’s fair to say that in the last week, there’s been quite a shift in the scientific community, or at least certain parts thereof, particularly in the United States. Yesterday’s Executive Orders restricting immigration, though temporarily stayed as of this writing, have rightly caused consternation among many. In research circles, this has meant difficulties for students, faculty, and staff who were travelling overseas, and restrictions on nationals of seven countries from entering the US. The growing anger within the US at this action has resulted in several scientists, many of whom I respect greatly, suggesting that professional scientific societies move their conferences and meetings to venues outside the US, or for non-US researchers to boycott meetings in the US. While these suggestions come from good intentions, it’s rather flawed and, if I might say, a tad hypocritical.

Regardless of where a meeting is held, there will be scientists who cannot or will not, for immigration reasons or reasons of conscience, attend. Hold meetings outside the US could mean some US-based researchers who are not US citizens might not feel safe or comfortable going, for fear of being denied re-entry upon their return. Hold it in the US, and scientists from those seven nations could be unable to attend. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. But this is hardly something new.

I have a list of just under 80 countries where I will not travel, for work or pleasure. Places where being LGBTQ is illegal. Unlike nationality, though, an immigration officer can’t look at me or my paperwork and decide whether I’m queer or not. But the fact remains that, regardless of whether its enforced or not, it’s illegal for me to be me in a sizeable chunk of the world. So if your conference is in Indonesia, Kenya, or Barbados, it’s a non-starter: I’m not going.

Last summer, I wrote about how the Animal Behaviour Society passed a resolution to not hold meetings in North Carolina in response to that state’s anti-trans “bathroom bill”, but at the same time the world’s biggest marine science conference, the IMCC, announced that it’s 2018 meeting would be in Malaysia *, which is on that list of 80 or so countries. Yet where was the concern? The showing of solidarity with scientists who would be affected by holding a scientific conference in such a location?

Some have argued that since these laws aren’t (apparently) enforced, or often aren’t (apparently) applied to foreigners that it would be ok for queer folk to go to conferences in some of these places. F&$# off. Unless you’ve ever had to hide who you were for fear of detention or physical & mental harm – often for years or decades – you have no idea how idiotic that sounds, and how unhealthy it is. Everyone makes their own decisions affecting their personal safety and based on their personal values, and I’ve made mine.

Rather than relocate meetings, societies need to ensure that all of their members can participate. Why, for example, is it still so difficult to allow members to participate by video-conference? It’s 2017 for goodness sake.

No matter where scientific societies hold their meetings, there will be scientists who will not or cannot attend. The sooner we recognize this, the sooner we can work towards a more equitable culture, in science and beyond.

— —

*The folks at IMCC have engaged on this issue, indeed far more than any other conference I’ve heard from, but the fact remains: being gay is illegal in Malaysia.

Scientific meetings and diversity

Tags

conferences, LGBTQ

At the end of the day, science is people and their interactions, whether that’s face-to-face, through a journal submission system, or by email. And having a diverse array of people present a diverse array of views and doing science in a diverse set of ways is a Good Thing. And as the scientific community gradually comes to the realization that the diverse scientists in its midst put up with a heck of a lot of diverse crap in their day-to-day lives, especially those from minority groups, women, and the financially insecure, for example, there’s been what one might call an evolution towards considering people when thinking about science.

One of the major ways scientists interact is at conferences or meetings, united by a common research area or theme, and it’s at these meetings where some not-that-good stuff can happen, which has prompted many organizations (though still a small minority) to establish codes of conduct for attendees. Huzzah progress! There are also things you can do to be an ally at conferences.

It was with this floating around in my noggin that I was very interested to see the tweet below from the 2016 Animal Behavior Society:

Passed unanimously. Sends a strong message to students about ABS values. #2016ABS pic.twitter.com/vTSyD4l9id

— Courtney Fitzpatrick (@clynfitzpatrick) August 1, 2016

HB2, or the Public Facilities Privacy & Security Act is a large piece of rubbish that discriminates again transfolk by preventing them from using the toilet of their gender. Like I said, utter rubbish. So it was rather heartening to see a scientific society taking a stand on a social and legal issue that affects some of its members.

So it was with some sadness that, 2 days later, the 5th International Marine Conservation Congress announced its location:

… Aaaaand #IMCC5 will be in ….. Malaysia (Sarawak, Borneo) #IMCC4

— Craken MacCraic (@Craken_MacCraic) August 3, 2016

 

Malaysia is rather unfriendly to LGBTQ folk (to put it mildly), and even depictions of them in film must show “good triumphing over evil.” Good grief. So needless to say, I won’t be attending. Which is sad personally, and professionally. And while I do understand the international nature of science, and the need to engage with a diverse range of scientists from across the world, I wonder if the topic of LGBTQ attendees even came up.

Is it the job or the purview of professional scientific societies to consider all these various factors when choosing their meeting location? Or should their goal be to be as international as possible regardless of the social or legal conditions of some of their members? Societies are of course welcome to have their meetings wherever they wish, but I think they should also think about what message that sends (be it positive or negative) to the full diversity of its membership.

 

Pastoral care in science

Tags

altac, mentoring, pastoral care

I work at an NGO, and largely outside the academy, in what could be termed an alt-ac job. One of the biggest differences is that there aren’t (m)any students around. Sure, there’s the occasional PhD researcher, but they’re more treated like the other staff (which can be both good and bad), but in the last 3 years, I’ve found that the lack of students is what I miss the most about not being affiliated with a university.

In addition to the discovery of knowledge and education of students, I think that universities have a significant role to play in pastoral care. Deriving from the religious origins of the university as a societal institution, pastoral care is the assistance in personal wellbeing of students. There is a whole corpus of research and literature on the role of universities in modern society, and of their faculty and staff in student development and wellbeing; I remember some of it from my liberal arts undergrad aeons ago, but I am wholly unqualified to summarize or discuss it here. This is more of a personal reflection.

When I went off to university 15+ years ago, I was only the second in my family to do so, and the first to move away for university (both my parents did 1-2 years in various programs, but always based at home). I was 18, still in the closet (and in oblivious denial), and realizing for the first time that there was a great big world outside my small/suburban upbringing. I had 9/11, the invasion of Iraq, the Columbia space shuttle disaster, and my first introduction to the studies of globalisation, religion, colonialism, gender, and philosophy. I loved (nearly) every minute, but I was very much a fish out of water. Socially awkward, didn’t drink or party, and figuring out for the first time in my life who I was and who I wanted to be. In retrospect, I likely showed signs of depression, and anxiety, and I had at least one experience in 2002 that I still find discomforting and troubling (though that is for another day).

And in my four years of undergrad, I was fortunate enough to know two faculty members who made my life and experience so much better. One of them did so consciously (and we’ve since discussed it), while the other might not have, and we lost touch years ago. And though I said I was fortunate, I know in speaking with others in my cohort of students, years later, that this was the norm at Mount Allison. These were people I could call at 11pm on a Sunday if I had to, who helped me, and many others, far beyond our academic studies, and were invested in the success of the whole person. (How well this tradition is continued with increasing university corporatization remains to be seen).

And after I graduated, and became more comfortable in my own skin, I began to notice that others around me were going through tough times – whether that was related to science, academia, or their personal lives. I helped where I could. As a PhD student and postdoc, I knew the system and resources better, and could start to point people in appropriate directions. I was also often one of the few people talking about how we do science, and about scientists as people, which I hypothesize might have made me more approachable.*

When I was involved with the Canadian Improv Games (which I maintain is one of the absolute best organizations in the world for young adults – seriously, just check out this video), it was our mission to maximize each individuals’ success. And in many of the students that I coached, or adjudicated over the years, I saw glimpses of myself, which only made me want to foster that success even more. Their successes brought me ever greater joy that has, to date, been unparalleled by any other professional experience.

But now that I find myself outside the university, and in the UK (without a comparable improv program for students), I find myself thinking more and more about pastoral care in science more broadly, and the culture of research and wellbeing of scientists outside university environments. Some of the challenges I had in undergrad persist (I still tend to be quite anxious, for example), but unlike the university, I feel much more like I’m flying solo. Sure, part of that is the progression from an 18-year-old student to a 30-something research scientist, but occasionally, the support that I would like seems to be missing. And equally, the opportunities to support others in a meaningful way are much more difficult to cultivate. Why is this?

I think part of it relates to the general workplace culture. Here, we’ve all got a job to do, and not enough time to do it. Interactions are either entirely spontaneous or involve coordinating Outlook calendars of >3 people. I have an open-plan office, which doesn’t encourage pastoral interactions. But perhaps most critically, there’s no culture of support or mentorship, and a sense that asking anyone to do anything must be predicated by the phrase “I know you’re incredibly busy, but…”.

I think that the culture of mentorship is incredibly important (and I’ve argued before how this applies specifically to the LGBTQ scientific community). Many of the same arguments apply far more broadly, too. Mentors don’t have all the answers, but they’re (hopefully) invested in the success of their mentees, whether this relationship is formalized or not. And as a friend recently put it, sometimes we’re helpers, and sometimes we need help – pastoral activities aren’t something we do OR receive, it’s both.

Maybe I’m just waxing nostalgic and have an undue rosy expectation based on my own experiences. Pastoral care doesn’t get added to a tenure dossier, or used in annual job evaluations. We are too busy, and have enough problems of our own to deal with without having to deal with someone else’s on top of that. But, no one’s epitaph reads “they wish they’d spent more time at the office”, and very few of us are remembered for the reports we reviewed or strategy sessions we chaired. What matters are people and relationships. And non-university research organizations (and increasingly corporatized universities) need to do a better job looking after, and nurturing them.

 

With thanks to Terry Wheeler for fruitful discussions

– – –

*I’m not trying to blow my own horn here. I’m sure (and I hope!) that many others fulfilled this/these role(s); this is just my own perception. YMMV.

Writing retreats

Tags

hiking, writing

One of the things I certainly struggle with now that I’m in a job that involves managing people and programs as much as doing Actual Science™ is finding time to write. About 18 months ago, a colleague forwarded this post from Thesis Whisperer on how to write 10,000 words a day. The secret: turning off distractions, working in a mutually supportive group, and editing later. It’s called Shut Up And Write (or SUAW), because that’s what you do. We’ve merged it with the Pomodoro Technique, and do 25 minutes of writing, with a 5-10 minute break, and repeat 4 times in a morning or afternoon about once every 3 weeks.

But sometimes, that’s just not enough.

In 2015, we had a 6-month expedition to Henderson Island which generated a metric boatload of data. Now, 6 months after the expedition ended, we’d had a preliminary look through the data, and outlined what we thought were the sensible papers that would come out of the trip. We just needed to crunch some data and write some papers.

So I went hiking in Switzerland.

Well, I actually went to a friend’s house, where he, I, and another colleague spent about 2 weeks crunch data, writing papers, and hiking in the Alps and the countryside. We’d get up at about 0630, work for a bit, have breakfast, work for a bit more, and then head outside for 3 or 4 hours, work a bit before supper, and a bit after supper. We still put in at least 8 hours each day on “work”, recharge mid-day (often discussing results, angles for papers, strategies for analysis, and implications of findings along the way). And it was amazingly productive. The last time I had so many related papers in such an advanced stage of preparation (all are now just about complete first drafts for coauthors, if not further along) was in the heady days of my Ph.D.

Now, I realize that I was very lucky in that the only cost of doing this was a train ticket (along with the mental anguish of Paris’s Gare du Nord, and the occasional overly vocal football/soccer fan on the Eurostar), and my boss and workplace was also highly supportive of me basically putting my other work responsibilities largely on hold for 2 weeks (we had only intermittent email, and weren’t checking phones for messages). During my Ph.D. in Newfoundland, especially towards the end, I lamented that there wasn’t a nice saltbox in Trepassey where grad students could go and write up their theses.

So if you’re a PI or department head or anyone else who manages people who need concerted time to write, try Shut Up And Write, and throw in the occasional writing retreat. You might just be pleasantly surprised.

On energy & reflection

Hello faithful readers (if, indeed, there are many of you left). As might be deduced by scrolling through the blog archives, my frequency of posting has waned significantly of late. Believe me, this is not a reflection of any lack of ideas, topics, or Things I Think Are Important, but rather a lack of energy, and a re-evaluation of what I see as the purpose of The Lab and Field.

When I started blogging back in 2013, I was about 18 months into my first postdoc, and the only person in the lab, aside from the PI. We were the only ecologists in an entire building of hydrologists and meteorologists, and I saw blogging as an outlet for looking at neat papers, expressing ideas and opinions, and sharing personal anecdotes from my professional journey.

In the intervening 3+ years, I did a second postdoc, went to faculty interviews (got rejected from by of them), ended up working for a massive environmental NGO, moved continents, lost family, gained friends, and visited some of the most remote and spectacular places on Earth. And the whole time I’ve questioned decisions, second-guessed all the what-ifs imaginable, struggled, worked far too much, and been exhausted. I’ve fought what I see as a few good fights, and lost a number of them (or at least that’s how it sometimes feels).

I’m not normally one for too much navel-gazing, but rather a few people have asked recently when I would blog next, or mentioned that they missed seeing new posts. And while that’s deeply gratifying, I think I’ll be taking a break. Not indefinite, but of uncertain length.

A very dear friend and I discussed at some length recently how working in conservation, whether as a solo researcher or as part of a massive machine, is emotionally exhausting, how we often compromise to fit funding requirements, and put ourselves in less-than-ideal places, all while struggling to make ends meet at home. Conservation work, like most things I see as Very Important, tends to not pay well, can involve significant time away from home, and huge emotional investment (and a good dose of tilting at windmills, with often predictable consequences).

Years ago (and despite extensive searching, I can’t re-find it), I heard a public talk on a podcast where the speaker would set aside 4 weeks each year, in two chunks, to simply disappear, usually to a Buddhist monastery or equally quiet, contemplative place, free from phones, clutter, jumble, and what I’ll call “ancillary crap” (the associated un-fun things about daily life). I always found that appealing, if financially unattainable.

I sense an increasingly rant-y wave of posts in my drafts folder, and we all have enough negativity in our personal and professional lives. But it’s often this negativity that makes being positive and encouraging so energetically expensive – a feeling I knew all too well before coming out, and, well, am starting to see again from time to time.

So time to take a break (though without the monastic setting, jokes about Bedfordshire aside). You can still find me on Twitter, if you’re so inclined.

Volunteer field techs are bad for wildlife ecology: the response

Tags

jobs, unpaid, volunteer

This is a joint post by Auriel Fournier and Alex Bond

Over the last several years, we’ve both been advocates for eliminating unpaid field technician positions (see here, here, and here for our previous posts on the topic, and this piece from Nature News). About a year ago, we were both quite frustrated, and decided to make the same arguments we had made on our blogs to a different audience – to those who read the peer-reviewed literature.

So we crafted our best arguments, found appropriate references, and had some wonderful colleagues read it over before submitting it. When the reviews came back, they were more startling than we had expected. In essence, we were asked to prove our assertion that diversity is a Good Thing. Nevertheless, two rounds of revisions (and $150 in page charges from our own pockets) later, our peer-reviewed article entitled “Volunteer Field Technicians Are Bad for Wildlife Ecology” appeared in the Wildlife Society Bulletin in mid-November, and was also posted on ResearchGate.

The reaction has been beyond anything either of us could have imagined.

On ResearchGate, the article had (as of 9 March 2016) 11,724 reads, and an Altmetric score of 173 (the highest for any paper in the Wildlife Society Bulletin). To say we were surprised at the amount of interest would be an understatement.

We also received several emails or comments that we will share here (anonymized, of course). The overwhelming majority have been positive or constructive, but we’ll start with the negative comments, including the one that was the most hurtful.

To paraphrase the anonymous emailer who created a new email address just to send this one message:

Your career is over. No one will hire you because of this.

Well, thank you, anonymous emailer. You are an utter ass-hat of the most contemptible kind. Now kindly sod off.

One of us also had one potential collaborator who pulled out because of our position on unpaid technicians. Which is annoying and it means some very interesting and potentially important science won’t get done. But chances are we would have found something else to disagree on, so we’re not that put out.

And really, those were the only negative comments we’ve received so far. No doubt there have been those muttering in disagreement, but they’ve not yet muttered to us.

The positive feedback has, however, been rather abundant.

A field technician wrote:

I’M SO HAPPY PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT THIS PROBLEM! SO EXCITING TO SEE THIS! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SO DAMN MUCH. YOU ARE OFFICIALLY MY FAVORITE SCIENTIST RIGHT NOW!

This was just one of several similar notes, each of which brought (and continues to bring) smiles to our faces.

A scientist at a non-profit wrote:

Hope you are well! I just came across your JWM opinion paper on volunteers and want to say how great I think it is!! I totally agree that it presents challenges to those doing full-time work worthy of pay, and are not getting paid. Even young people doing tough fieldwork getting paid more than $300/month often struggle with feeling grossly under-appreciated. I shared it with my coworkers and we reflected on how to treat our interns better. Thanks for taking the leap to write this!

This was one of our goals – getting people to talk about the issue of unpaid/underpaid technicians in their own institutions.

From another research technician:

Interesting article and I agree wholeheartedly. Although I think these volunteer positions will continue (even the pay to work ones) because they are often sought after. The organizations offering them probably don’t struggle with applicants because people are willing to volunteer just to visit remote nature reserves. Along the same line as your article, there is also a larger issue in that jobs in the wildlife ecology sector generally are not well paid, which essentially causes the same issues as volunteer positions (undermines professionalism, excludes certain groups if people etc.).

Indeed, we see no end in sight for volunteer and pay-to-work positions. Though we’ve started tracking them monthly, and you can see the results over at our Github repository.

Some comments were less clear

The unpaid/underpaid intern situation has bothered me for many years, and someone had call “us” out. One thing I would add is that money is soooo tight that often the PI can’t afford to include the unpaid/underpaid intern’s name in the acknowledgement section of the resulting peer review paper. “We” may also have some issues with acknowledgement.

We are not sure how this comment was intended since neither of us is aware of any monetary limitation from any angle in including anyone, even one’s dog or one’s beard (PDF), in the acknowledgements of a paper.

We also received one long email giving a clear example of how paying technicians to be part of a project does not mean the science is being done well, which was not the argument we were making.

The following came from a professor at a U.S. small liberal arts college:

I have wondered occasionally if a two-pronged approach to this issue would be effective. Writing an editorial to suggest that PIs should incorporate funding for technician seems like a good start. It also seems like it would be worthwhile to write something from the student perspective, suggesting guidelines for when they should consider taking a low-paying (or non-paying) temporary position, how to identify good opportunities, etc.

This is, indeed, an interesting proposition. Auriel has written a bit about applying for field jobs, but as we emphasized in our WSB piece, the decision to accept a position at any salary level is very much an individual decision, and the continued existence of unpaid work and pay-to-work positions is a testament to this (and the number of people willing to accept such positions). The benefits (and costs) vary considerably among individual circumstances, so we’re hesitant to be prescriptive. The most important factor for potential employees (regardless of the level of compensation) is to know your rights, and to make sure the expectations of employer and employee are compatible.

The feedback provided by this person was reflective of several comments we received, and discussions we’ve had:

My take on internships/volunteer jobs. Their role should only be reserved for undergraduates that are still working on a degree. I had no compunctions taking an internship for such low pay. I had very little experience at that point, so the internship was a way for me to learn many different skills to work as a field biologist. I’ve had a few people ask how I got such good experience, and as such good paying field jobs, right after college. working the right internship, that offers lots of learning opportunity, is a good way to help in that regard.

While we’re quite glad that it worked out for this particular person, such experiences and benefits are not exclusive to unpaid jobs. The implicit argument, we think, is that there simply aren’t enough paid positions for everyone, but this is the case in nearly every profession but we don’t see volunteer teachers, for example. In some places, like the UK, trainees have a lower minimum wage. But while many undergraduate students are fresh out of high school with few other obligations (financial, family, or otherwise), this is nowhere near universal, particularly for groups that are under-represented in science (as we argued in our paper).

An African-American faculty member wrote:

But look at undergraduate wildlife classes. You will see already that there are very few of us present. At [research university], I was the only AA (even just minority, I believe) in wildlife for my year (a year later, another AA woman came in). What’s filtering minorities out comes before college, probably before high school. If we want to increase the diversity of our field, outreach efforts need to be concentrated towards childhood and the early teen years, and ideally, we’d have some sort of mentorship program to keep people on a track towards declaring a wildlife/related major once they enter college.

This is, indeed, a very good point. Unpaid positions are just one barrier to diversity in science, and eliminating them won’t solve the problem, but it will help those who’ve made it through to the point where they are looking for such positions. As Simphiwe Dana tweeted recently, “Just because one individual succeeded against all odds doesn’t make the odds acceptable”. Eliminating unpaid positions will help even the odds.

We also received a lengthy message from a female tenured professor at a US research (R1) university:

1) I suspect that many (most?) of your dataset probably consists of technicians recruited to help graduate students. If you make providing not only room and board but also wages sufficient to pay off student loans or supporting sick relatives a requirement, what you are saying is that the only grad students who are allowed to benefit from help in the field are students from well-funded labs and/or working on a project funded by their advisor. Many graduate students do not have access to the types of funding that permit this, yet are doing great science and being highly productive members of our scientific community, precisely because they are able to make things happen on a shoe-string. I firmly believe that PhD students should have a major role in shaping their intellectual development, designing their project, and taking ownership of the direction of their project. This is fundamentally incompatible with a funding model of PI getting a big grant and essentially hiring a PhD student to run it with the help of well-paid technicians. I think your statements that “Unpaid technician positions are bad for science. They are bad for the conservation of our natural world. They are bad for society.” …are wrong because they can make possible a degree of intellectual freedom that is crucial to inventive, original, student-driven research that con contribute substantially to the conservation of our natural world.

Here, we think there are two issues at play. While it’s true that many (though not most) unpaid positions are from academic institutions, we’re not arguing that they should be paid extravagant salaries, but at a minimum, those in line with minimum wage requirements in the jurisdiction of their employer. That is, the minimum legal wage for a set amount of work. We feel this is an ethical issue, which could impede intellectual freedom, but just like other ethical dilemmas within science should not be ignored because of that.

We could also do more research if we didn’t have to pay overhead/incidental costs, pay for fuel or travel, or field station fees or to run PCRs. Field technician salary is no different and should be included in budgets and planning. Even things like applying for and reviewing grants costs money, which could be spent on conservation. But we, as a scientific society, have prioritized this (either consciously or unconsciously) over other uses.

It continues:

For PIs providing minimal compensation, there are undoubtedly fewer justifications. But there are some! You acknowledge that everyone has tight funding and is always looking for the way to maximize data/$. That is not going to change, ever. In a hypothetical situation where you had $3000 allocated for technician support. Let’s image that could pay 1 person well for a field season or 3 at rate where they are able to live and eat but not do such things as pay off student loans. If you chose 1 person, you’d be crazy not to ONLY accept the most skilled, experienced people for the job. If you have the freedom to take 3, you can afford to pick people with ZERO experience, and provide a lot more training. People pay through the nose for formal classroom education. Why should they not “pay” in effect, for training?

This really depends on the situation. Alex, for example, hired completely fresh inexperienced field staff for 3 of his 4 PhD field seasons because they were engaged, excited, and would get on well in the field. Skills and experience aren’t the only factors when hiring. But there is a general trend in closing field stations and fewer offerings of field courses at universities, which is concerning. Indeed, some are even claiming that “We have already lost a generation of field biologists”. But this again comes down to priorities and one’s frame of mind. If you have $3000, and a field technician costs $3000, you hire one field technician. We also feel that part of hiring a field technician is to mentor them as a scientist, and to train them, not just give them $X and get back X data. All projects should include time to train technicians in their schedules, even if they hire experienced staff, to ensure the consistency and validity of the entire project.

This commenter concludes:

3) The people who get the most funding are the old white guys. If only old white guys can have technicians, then we hurt the ability to creative, smart, less-advantaged people of doing science and inspiring others to make things happen for them, even if they work on a shoe-string.

Don’t get me wrong… I do understand the logic of trying to make things easier for less-advantaged students. But I think some of your arguments are a little over-stated. Take this: “How is someone—often with student debt, no outside financial support, a child, a sick parent, an expensive medical condition, any kind of regular life expense, or no family to buy a plane ticket for them—supposed to take these positions?” First, if the potential technician has a small child, a sick parent that requires their assistance, or a serious medical condition, then it is not a good idea to fly off to a remote field site, regardless of the compensation. Like it or not, remote field camps are bad places to bring infants and to be sick. It would be irresponsible of the person hiring to put a sick person or child into situations that put them at risk. What are they to do? Only ever study things within an easy drive of medical attention within North America? I also would like to see data on how much biologists are selecting from the privileged for such positions? That data probably doesn’t exist, but it is crucial to your arguments, and without data, I think it might be premature to state your conclusions so forcefully. I can’t speak for others, but I have actively sought to promote diversity from grad-student days onwards. I also can’t see how these policies affect gender or sexual orientation issues.

The issue of diversity in funding outcomes is, of course, important. And it will take a long time for change to trickle down because those in charge often benefit disproportionately in biased systems.

Field camps also need not be remote, either.  Many field positions occur within range of a hospital that someone who needs regular medical tests or even just access to a pharmacy for expensive medications can do that. Yes there are situations where some will be too sick or otherwise unable to participate in field work, but that is certainly not the rule.

This commenter is correct that we have no data on the affluence of field technicians (nor are we aware of any such data collected). But what we do have is information on diversity at later stages of scientific careers, and where women and people of colour tend to be under-represented. Like one of the previous commenters stated, fostering diversity must begin at an early stage.

There are several references in our paper on the effects of unpaid positions on women (and therefore gender composition). And LGBT folk comprise a vastly disproportionate number of homeless. This is, of course, a very extreme example, but LGBT folk are often less likely to have the support of family who could bankroll their time spent on an unpaid job. While the peer reviewed literature we cited in our editorial is not collected from within the scientific field we do not see a reason that the disproportionate impact had on gender diversity in other fields because of unpaid work would be different in science.

Ultimately we are glad that this article is being read and discussed and we hope that it will continue to be so that in another 12 years another editorial will not need to be written that cites ours and Whitaker 2003. If we value diversity in science we need to stop making excuses and start letting our actions match our priorities.

And lastly, from a tenured professor in Canada:

PS: I am just back from a meeting where we kicked off an international research network that will involve massive amounts of field work.  We used your editorial as a justification to write “no unpaid jobs” in the bylaws. I know it’s usually the angry people that are the more vocal, so I wanted to let you know.

One small change along the road to improving how we do science.

When we first floated this idea about a year ago, we had no idea it would strike such a chord with so many people (both positively and negatively). After all, we don’t think that the suggestion that people should be paid for the work they do was so radical.

While I was away… some recommended reads

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links

I have just returned from 3 months of field work on Gough and Tristan da Cunha, and in addition to the hundreds of emails, piles of fliers, and loving family that welcomed me back, there were a couple hundred blog posts in my RSS feed (yes, I still use RSS. It could only be improved if it were coupled with a typewriter). Last year, I did a quick run-through of the posts that tweaked my interest from the massive amounts of fantastic writing that happened while I was away, and I’ll do the same this year. As always, there are heaps of other fantastic posts out there by these same folks, and more, so this is hardly a ’best-of’, but more a ’in-case-you-missed-it-like-I-did’.

So without further ado, below is a quick summary of some of the posts that caught my attention (in no particular order).

 

Open your mouth and say… science! (Unmuzzled Science)

Canada had an election back in October, and science seems to have been given a bit of a boost, and in particular, government science. A nice summary of what needs to happen next if actions are to match Trudeau’s rhetoric.

 

Giving Thanks for My Mentors (Chronicle Vitae)

Jeremy Yoder has a great post on the often unsaid good things that mentors do. We’re quick to complain about the negative side, and bad mentorship (and rightfully so), but I’d wager there’s a larger population of good mentors than bad.

 

 

We’re Looking to Grow (Liberal Arts Ecologists)

The great blog Liberal Arts Ecologists is (well, was back in August) looking for more contributors!

 

The Midget Subs of Kiska Island (Aleutian Islands Working Group)

I spent 4 summers on Kiska doing my PhD research, so it’s great to see Richard Galloway write about the beached Japanese midget sub from 1942 at the south end of Kiska Harbour. The preservation of historic sites in such remote areas is a great challenge.

 

2015 caRd – A diveRsity of Santas (The EEB and Flow)

An amusing evolutionary look at the wide and varied forms of Santa Claus (and related phenotypes) around the world. It seems reindeer transport diverged early, and is highly conserved.

 

Top 10 signs that a paper/field is bogus (Raj Lab)

There are piles of papers that are simply crap, sometimes the case of ’a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing’, and I’ve wondered in the past why we seem to just ignore these in ecology & conservation. Here are some good tips for spotting those papers (or more broadly, fields).

 

Dealing with mental health: A guide for professors (Caroline Anne Kovesi in University Affairs)

This is a particularly fantastic piece, and not just because it’s written by someone from my wee alma mater! And more broadly, I think it applies outside academia as well, as a guide to those of us who supervise staff. Just because it’s not for degree credit doesn’t mean some of the same issues don’t apply.

 

And because they’re perennially at the top of my reading list when I return, some highlights from Dynamic Ecology…:

Why fit is more important than impact factor in choosing a journal to submit to

I generally try to go for fit when deciding when to send papers, and Brian makes the compelling case even more clear. Read those Guidelines for Authors!

 

Techniques aren’t powerful; scientists are

All tools, in the right hands, can be useful. But one must know how to use them!

 

The hardest part of academia? Moving.

Having done 3 large (>1000 km) moves, including two >4000 km moves, this resonated with me a fair bit. I think it’s even harder to move internationally (a topic I hope to write on in 2016).

 

Musings on reading older literature

I’m a fan of older literature, but it must be looked at, at least in part, through the lens of the time. And occasionally when you delve deep to find the source of some oft-quoted ’fact’, and finally see the evidence that underpins it, you just might think twice.

 

Strategies (and reasons) for being more productive with fewer hours

Meg has some fantastic tips for time management, something I need to work on.

 

… and Small Pond Science:

A lot of scientists are kind, careful and caring

This certainly matches many of my experiences. We don’t always hear about the positive folks in grad school, so there can sometimes be a negative ’reporting bias’ with respect to bad supervisors. This is part of the reason the Academic Kindness tumblr irked me. See also Jeremy Yoder’s piece above.

 

If you have a bad advisor in grad school

Though not everyone has a good supervisor-trainee relationship. Terry offers some good advice on what to do in those cases. Non-supervisor mentors are key.

 

Prescriptive reviews are a scourge

Finally from Terry, a look at whether reviewers should be prescriptive. I sort of disagree with some of this post, as it assumes that editors are capable of, and actually do, provide the critical next steps. Too many editors simply forward the reviewer comments without adding much (or by summarizing the comments. I don’t mind suggestions for what to do to improve the paper, and if it’s simply not possible, will say so in the rebuttal letter, which hopefully the editor understands. Though I will continue to maintain that peer review is much better done over a pot of tea or pint of beer.

 

Lastly, heaven help us, Terry McGlynn has a science podcast (Not Just Scientists), and it’s pretty awesome.

Future of Visiting Fellowship postdoc program in doubt

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NSERC, postdoc, visiting fellowships

I was slightly alarmed to see this post indicating that NSERC’s Visiting Fellowship in Government Labs (VF) program had come to an end.  This is (was?) a program administered by NSERC whereby postdocs were placed in Canadian federal research labs for up to 3 years.  The government department (so, Environment Canada, for example) ponied up the money, and NSERC acted as the middleman.

I was a VF from 2013-2014, and had I not found work, I’d still be there.  In an era when finding postdoc funding is particularly challenging in Canada, the VF program was very valuable – applicants just had to find a supervisor in government with the cash.

So when I heard about the supposed demise, I got in touch with a few of my contacts from my days in government to see what the deal was.  At one department, supervisors were effectively told that the program was over without any context.  But at another federal science department, there was a bit more information presented.

According to my anonymous government contacts, the whole issue began when a VF challenged their employment status.  Because VFs are paid directly from NSERC, this person argued, they should be receiving benefits as well, and treated as fully fledged employees.  They took their case to the Canada Revenue Agency, who arbitrates on such matters, and the CRA ruled that VFs are employees of NSERC.  As result, NSERC pulled the plug.

It’s unclear right now how this affects current VFs who are part-way through their position. At present, the application, and program information are still posted on the NSERC site.

 

But what I think is important to note is that according to my contacts in three federal science departments, this caught everyone off guard.  The researchers in these departments, and yes, even some of their managers, see the importance of the VF program, and are actively looking for solution; it’s just unclear what that solution will be.

 

It’s very easy to decry this as another example of the current government’s general attitude towards science, but it’s better to look at the evidence presented.  The decision to stop the VF program was made by NSERC for employment/labour reasons.

 

The NSERC post-doctoral fellowship (PDF) program remains in place and unchanged.  And for now, it’s one of a dwindling number of postdoctoral research opportunities in Canada.

2014 by the numbers

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year in review

I did this last year (and stole the idea from Jeremy Yoder), and rather enjoyed it – so here’s a quantitative look back at the year that’s been, and an opportunity to look ahead.

 

24

The number of posts this year. Not as many as last year, but being away for 4 months of field work will do that.  The most viewed:

Post title	Page views
Personal academic websites for faculty & grad students: the why, what, and how	4708
Your daily dose of sexism (again) and #ProteomicsSexism	4143
How did we learn that birds migrate (and not to the moon)? A stab in the dark	2790
Beware the academic hipster (or, use what works for you) UPDATED	2262
The advantages of Google Scholar for early-career academics	1726

 

37,189

The total number of visits to The Lab and Field in its 2nd year of existence.  A huge thanks to everyone to drops by.  When I started The Lab and Field back in January 2013, I thought of it as an outlet where I could talk about non-research aspects of academia and science more broadly (sort of like I did as  grad student while waiting for the kettle to boil, or over a cup of tea). I had no idea that y’all would find it as interesting as I did, but I’m glad you do.

 

2800; 9

The distance, in km, and time, in days, from Cape Town to Tristan da Cunha. I made the journey twice this year, and will do it again in 2015.

 

6568

The distance, in km, that we relocated for me to take my first permanent job with the RSPB.

 

0

The number of job applications submitted this year, the first year since 2010 where I haven’t been looking for work. To say it’s been nice is a bit of an understatement.

 

10

Like last year, the number of new papers.  I was fortunate enough to work with some wonderfully prolific colleagues again this year, and here’s hoping the productivity continues in 2015.  This included some exciting (but depressing) work on the effects of climate and ingested plastics on shearwaters in Australia, and seabirds in the North Atlantic, a review of seabird plastic ingestion in Canada, and looking at the dynamics of mercury in a couple of different systems.

 

0.96

My gender gap – the ratio of my female:male coauthors in 2014 – a big improvement on my gender gap of 0.60 calculated last December.

 

163

The total number of Tristan Albatross chicks we counted this year. Out of about 1700 nests. In case you were wondering, this is abysmally horrible.

 

and lastly, a number that will be of increased significance for me in 2015 …

10

The time, in years, since I picked scientific research as a career, started grad school, came out, and met my husband.  In retrospect, 2005 was a pretty big year, and I’ll reflect on my first decade as a married gay scientist a fair bit in 2015.

 

May 2015 be prosperous, productive, and successful for all of us.

Cheers,

Alex.