University, for many, is the first real taste of freedom. Behind the O-Week parties, the huge lecture halls and soon-to-be-friendships is an almost unbridled hopefulness for the years to come.
This was the case for Suzanna Reece*. When she first arrived at uni, she was excited, stressed and a bit overwhelmed. “I really liked science, and I really liked animals,” she says. “I thought I was going to become a veterinarian.”
That changed after starting a biology degree. Like many students studying STEM, it dawned on her that research might be her calling: “I had a really amazing group of lecturers and tutors and academics,” Suzanna says. After just one year at university she realised that research “is what I wanted to do with my life”.
She was understandably optimistic about what the future held. “Stupidly so,” she tells me. “It just looked so great on paper.”
THERE’S A WELL-TRODDEN path into research. It starts with a year-long honours extension of an undergraduate degree, followed by a doctorate (also known as a PhD): three or so years of intense but rewarding work, producing “significant and original” research. If honours is dipping a toe into the sea of research, a PhD is jumping in fully clothed.
Around 10,000 people graduate with a PhD in Australia every year; cumulatively, 185,000 people had a PhD in Australia as of 2021. Most graduates want to be a researcher – a doctorate is the first rung on a career ladder to become a lecturer or professor. But in universities, these jobs are slim. In 2021, there were 47,000 full time and fractional academics across the country, just 15,000 of whom were professors or associate professors.
And it’s not just that career progression is difficult. Academics on all levels are struggling with funding constraints, difficult and sometimes toxic work environments, a lack of job security and more, often with little support from their institutions.
Universities, individual scientists and research are all suffering as a result. So what are we losing as a nation when scientists
