How Many Researchers Are Really Happy In Their Work?

We've heard a great deal lately about the impending shortage of scientists in the United States. We're told that fewer young people are pursuing careers in science. And compounding the problem, we're told, is the fact that women, African Americans, and Hispanics--while increasing in numbers in the U.S. population--are underrepresented in the sciences. Isn't it crucially important, in light of all this, for those who are firmly ensconced in the U.S. scientific community--and want to see it go on flourishing--to understand what does and does not attract people to science? Acquiring an understanding of what makes scientists happy or unhappy in their work should make us better able to go about attracting more young people into our profession. Moreover, contemplating the matter might make us better able to understand ourselves as professional researchers. I first became interested in the subject of how happy scientists are with their work when I was a graduate student. Even then--a dozen or so years ago--it was disturbing to me to see my professors frustratedly preoccupied with scraping around for research funds, wondering if they could support graduate students like me. In 1985, after a productive postdoctoral experience with an excellent mentor, I decided to take a faculty position at a small liberal arts university with a strong biology and premedical program. It was there, as an assistant professor, that I became aware of the General Social Surveys (GSS), a social indicators program run by the National Opinion Research Center (NORC) at the University of Chicago. Its data collection is based on nationwide surveys that have been conducted, with few interruptions, since 1972. Studying the program's statistics concerning scientists' job satisfaction provided me with a rich source of intellectual stimulation, not to mention a diverting way to pass my time when I wasn't chipping away at my usual line of research, namely, the idiosyncrasies of insulin metabolism. Some of the GSS figures are based on responses to questions about happiness on the job, with the respondents categorized according to occupational groupings suggested by the U.S. Bureau of the Census. I became excited by the possibility that the data would reveal the reasons why scientists choose their professions as well as information about how happy they are once the commitment is made. If carefully analyzed, I decided, the responses of scientists surveyed by GSS might reveal not only the extent to which they are satisfied with their work, but also how their degree of satisfaction compares with that of other professionals. I proceeded, then, to probe the GSS responses by interviewees who were scientists, and my findings were published last fall. In my article ("Work-related attitudes of U.S. scientists," Psychological Reports, 69:443-50, 1991), I presented the salient results of my research. On the positive side, I found that scientists, more than people in almost all other professional categories, initially pursue their careers in the belief that they will be engaged in important, meaningful work. The downside: I found that, while 50 percent of my research base claimed to be satisfied on the job, the other half expressed dissatisfaction with their work. In the Psychological Reports article, I speculated about the reasons voiced by the interviewed scientists for their dissatisfaction. Covered in my analysis were 53 men and women who had responded to a question about work status indicating they were employed full-time as scientists. And I focused my attention on two questions that the GSS had used in its research: * First, respondents had been asked to select from the following choices the characteristic they would most prefer in a job: high income, no danger of being fired, short work hours, lots of free time, chances for advancement, the opportunity to do important work, and a feeling of accomplishment. * Second, the respondents had been asked, "On the whole, how satisfied are you with the work you do? Would you say you are very satisfied, moderately satisfied, a little dissatisfied, or very dissatisfied?" In brief, analysis of the data revealed two important findings: * Regarding job objectives, scientists had a greater response rate for important, meaningful work than did a composite group of all other professionals. And, when a more refined comparison was made among 12 professional occupations, only respondents who identified themselves as "clergy" and "college professors" said they did important, meaningful work more often than did "scientists." It came as no surprise for me to find data supporting the contention that scientists enter their profession for the promise of doing work that provides a sense of accomplishment rather than, for example, the guarantee of high income, job security, or short hours. * But furthermore, with respect to job satisfaction, a greater percentage of scientists in the survey expressed dissatisfaction with their jobs than did a composite group of all other professionals (50 percent vs. 44.3 percent). It became clear to me from these findings that the informal observations made during my years in graduate school could be substantiated with data. I was alarmed that so many of my professional peers were unhappy in their work, and I wanted to find out why. So, the next phase of the study was speculative, primarily involving contemplation of the types of obstacles that are apt to impede a scientist's desire and ability to carry out important, meaningful work. My motivation was twofold: I felt that knowledge of the work-related attitudes of scientists might help to provide recommendations for attracting more young people to scientific fields; and I felt it might also provide a basis for instituting programs and other forms of administrative behavior aimed at improving the management of scientists. My conclusions centered on two broad areas of concern pertaining to all research scientists--the nettlesome problems in securing adequate funding support and the demoralizing erosion of science's public image and the resulting ebb in the public's confidence in science. A third conclusion pertains primarily to life scientists: the debilitating effect of the so-called animal rights movement. The struggle to maintain research funds--which originally prompted my study of scientists' frustrations--has intensified during the past decade. And now, with the increasingly high percentage of federal funds earmarked for specific purposes, such as AIDS research, resources are correspondingly being diverted from areas of research that are perceived as less crucial. Many scientists who were funded in the past, and grew accustomed to successfully obtaining federal dollars, suddenly are denied the financial support to carry on their work. Time spent preparing grant applications is time out of the laboratory, or away from analyzing data and writing manuscripts--time away, that is, from professional activities that result in meaningful work. The problem of shortage of federal funds for research carries serious implications for society when college students contemplating careers in science become aware of the funding pitfall and change their minds about entering the field. Another major factor, I believe, that stifles researchers' desire--and perhaps capability--to do important, meaningful work is the deterioration of the public image of science over the last generation. For instance, a 1985 National Science Foundation survey of 2,000 U.S. adults found that fewer than half believed that science has given society more benefits than harm. The NSF survey also revealed that only 21 percent of the public are "attentive" to science and read science-related material. Results of the NSF's analysis of public opinion data, on which I plan to report in the near future, show that sizable portions of the U.S. public believe, among other things, that scientists pry into matters they shouldn't and that science changes life too rapidly. Contributing to the decline of the public image of science is the common practice of the popular press to use scientists as scapegoats for many of the world's problems, such as pollution, global warming, and nuclear waste. That the public image of science has deteriorated is not to say, of course, that researchers have suffered a corresponding loss of prestige. There is, in fact, recent evidence --also based on GSS data--that scientists continue to enjoy high occupational prestige (The Scientist, Feb. 3, 1992, page 20). But there is an important difference between occupational prestige and public image. Occupational prestige is a theoretical constant based in part on respectability. However, according to Tom Smith, director of NORC, the major factors that determine occupational prestige are educational preparation and income earned. Public image is a different phenomenon. It deals almost exclusively with the perceived behavior and consequences of people in an occupation. It is this component for scientists that has deteriorated in the public's mind. Also damaging to the public image of science--therefore a source of unhappiness to scientists--are the isolated, rare examples of scientific misconduct. Corruption, manifested as misconduct and conflict of interest, exists in every profession--and, yes, science as well. It seems, however, that science and scientists are indicted especially heavily for the corrupt actions of a relatively few atypical individuals. The situation is aggravated by the media's often nonsupportive and inaccurate reporting, frequently seasoned with heavy doses of inappropriate sensationalism. Finally, for life scientists, the impact of the animal rights movement during the past decade cannot be underestimated as a cause of the relatively high degree of job dissatisfaction among those researchers polled for the GSS study. While the scientific community agrees that legislation pertaining to animal care and use is necessary, the bureaucracy it generates surely is inhibiting the progress of research. The situation is made all the worse by the fear among some researchers that their workplace--perhaps even their physical well-being--could be imperiled by the activities of hostile animal rights activists. Scientists enter their profession for the pursuit of knowledge and for the guarantee of a relatively independent employment setting. When obstacles get in the way of this pursuit, there is little doubt that they detract from the progress of a scientist and from the advancement of his or her work. The job satisfaction of scientists becomes a societal problem when concerns infringe upon research productivity. Management strategies directed toward relieving scientists' concerns about their jobs are necessary to make science a more attractive profession, both for young people about to enter college and for established scientists. I chose to pursue a career in science. I would make the same choice if given the opportunity to do it all over again. Although there are more obstacles now in the work environment for scientists than there were 50 years ago, the science profession's main attractions are intact: The motives of scientists are altruistic; scientists search for knowledge that benefits society; work patterns of scientists are characterized by autonomy, motivation, and a constant striving for quality. These are the virtues of our profession that we scientists need to advertise: by writing about them in the popular press, by talking about them when media representatives ask for interviews, and by exemplifying them, in person, for all our students to see. Michele L. Trankina is an associate professor of biological sciences at St. Mary's University and an adjunct associate professor of physiology at the University of Texas Health Science Center, San Antonio.

How Many Researchers Are Really Happy In Their Work?

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