In graduate school, I worried about the value of my research and the value of basic science in general – was there any value for knowledge that doesn’t translate to practical applications? At times, I questioned if I chose the right path. On occasion, I went through the reasons why basic science is worth doing in my mind, trying to convince myself I made the right decision. The main arguments I came up with were: (1) The findings might turn out to be important for something beneficial to society at some point in the future, and (2) the pursuit and contribution to the pool of human knowledge is a good in and of itself. (1) is a key practical reason we should do and fund basic science, and there are many fantastic examples of basic science that lead to (e.g., medical and technological) applications that have benefitted human society. However, I couldn’t shake the nagging thought that most basic science – including my own – does not lead to (1). From talking to other academics, many seem to think (2) is a good enough reason. This is perhaps not too surprising as many of us chose to pursue a career in research due to our personal interest in the topic, and we find joy in the acquisition of knowledge for knowledge’s sake. But I wondered, how much time and money is each piece of knowledge worth? And that’s if we do find anything at all (as some of you will know, many experiments don’t work out). Furthermore, I don’t think it’s immediately clear why knowledge is important in and of itself, nor is it obvious that everyone, especially those outside of academic circles, would agree. Over the last few years, I have arrived at a few reasons for doing basic science independent of the potential application of the acquired knowledge that I will lay out here. A large part of this will be an extension of (2), where I argue that it is not only a good in itself but has a real positive impact on society. I hope you will enjoy this personal journey that starts from my doubts in graduate school to a more positive outlook on the value of basic science.
I started out in graduate school bright-eyed and full of excitement, gearing up to go. Around the time I started (2012), the field of human cognitive neuroscience was getting quite a lot of attention. "The reward centres of the brain!", "Mind reading with a brain scanner" – were just some of the headlines present throughout the media, in science sections of major newspapers, pop-science magazine articles and even books. As I started my PhD, I learnt of the realities and limitations of brain imaging and experiments with human participants, and how the media might’ve exaggerated things a little bit. Still, doing research looking into people's brains as they were doing interesting tasks? I couldn't be happier.
As is typical in graduate school, there were ups and downs. Quite often, my mind was filled with self-doubt, worrying about the limits of my knowledge, … and so on. Out of these concerns, one of them kept coming back: "Does any of this matter?" If I produce a finding and publish it in a scientific journal, what good have I done? In the best-case scenario, some people in my field will see it, and they might even find it interesting. It might even make it into a popular science article. But working in basic science typically means that there is no immediate application of our research findings. There are success stories of basic science, where attempts to solve interesting problems based on intellectual curiosity led to applications far and wide. It's easy to imagine how basic research in physics, biology, and chemistry have potential applications in medicine and industry. In reality, many topics of research have little potential to lead to any practical use. If you're doing a PhD in basic science, chances are that this is the case. Using research funds (and often tax-payer money) made me feel guilty sometimes - shouldn't we be using it on something "more important"?
My PhD was on the cognitive and brain mechanisms of working memory (or short-term memory) and attention in young adults and in normal ageing. It was pure basic research with no immediate applications. I struggled with this a bit. Thanks to my supportive lab, I found a lot of joy in my work and training. I published a paper during my PhD, and it started getting cited by other researchers - noting how it's related to their own work, and even building on the work. In the meantime, I was writing my thesis, and had to read up on relevant literature. For example, I wanted to know which brain regions were more prone to degradation in ageing. My data were inconclusive. There were research groups that did magnificent work in post-mortem human brains, showing regions that decreased in cortical thickness and cell count (prefrontal cortex and hippocampus). How did ageing affect spatial attention? Again, a handful of studies on this topic. Many of these were simple experiments with a narrow focus, and typically published in lesser-known journals. Despite this, I was so happy that there was a graduate student or researcher somewhere that did the work, as they helped me to string pieces of knowledge together for a better understanding. Without these, my studies by themselves would’ve been woefully inadequate for any argument I wanted to make in my thesis. Each paper was a small piece of the puzzle, but together, they helped me build a broader picture and understanding. Then I realised – my paper was like this too – another student read it which might’ve helped them with their thesis, even if just a little bit. At some point, it might help someone write a textbook chapter, or help the clinical researcher who needs to know about normal aging. Although my work by itself is small and insignificant, in the short term it can help other researchers, and in the longer term it can help expand our field's understanding. This was enough to inspire myself a bit.
However, this "benefit" seems a bit too specific to academia and of less obvious value to society. So I asked myself: What value would I have seen in basic science before I became a scientist? Thinking back now, I can see that the results of years of scientific research were all around me. As a child, I loved dinosaurs. Ignorant of all the field work, technologies (e.g., carbon dating, radiometric dating), and many lines of geological and paleontological research that took place for us to learn of these magnificent creatures, they were part of my childhood. As a teenager, I started to learn interesting things about the world and the unintuitive ways scientists inferred these facts. How to tell the age of a tree, how heat is generated by the movement of molecules, and how cells, DNA, and different biological mechanisms work. I didn't realise how much thought and work had gone into these fields before they became 'established facts'. Recently, I’ve been reading popular science books in fields different to my own, which gave me some insight into this. It surprised me how a lot of our "common sense" scientific knowledge of the world has only been demonstrated relatively recently (compared to how long humans have been around). For example, experimental demonstration of germ theory was provided by Pasteur (1860s) with conclusive evidence in late 1800 (Koch). That electricity was the flow of individual particles of the same charge (electrons) was only demonstrated in the early 1900s (Millikan). And that the central unit of the nervous system is the neuron was proposed in the late 1800s by Cajal (the neuron doctrine) and only demonstrated in the 1950s (with the electron microscope). It is immensely difficult for me to imagine a time where people were seriously arguing about whether neurons have an important role in the brain’s processing, as much of neuroscience today studies the activities of these cells. The same applies to the ideas of the germ and the electron. Many of these findings now have major applications and benefits to mankind. But these scientists did not know this, nor did I need to know this to be inspired by these findings (and the stories behind them – I encourage you to check them out!). Furthermore, these discoveries would not have been possible without (what I thought were) the seemingly insignificant, individual research papers by the graduate student or early-career researcher – the literature that played a role to support the scientists which eventually lead to these major discoveries. It is said that the greats only became great by “standing on the shoulder of giants” – referring to other greats. However, I would say that the greats were also supported by the shoulders of the metaphorical ‘giants’, the community of scientists that have contributed small but solid findings that support the literature – without which no one could’ve made a significant discovery. Many of us will have learnt these facts in school, from popular science books, films, or even TV shows. For a long time I asked, what is the value of basic science on society? Perhaps a better question is: what role does basic science play in society? I realised that if we start noticing, it’s everywhere - it’s deeply embedded in our modern culture, from education to the media to the arts.
So is the pursuit of basic science and contribution to human knowledge in itself valuable and beneficial to human society? Is it a meaningful endeavour for the individual scientist, and for the society (and funders) that support it? Based on i) what makes life meaningful, and ii) the prevalence of basic science in modern-day culture, I will argue that it is. For most of us, there are people and activities that make life worth living. A lot of us love music and the arts. I used to think that artists are the ones that provide joy and meaning to humankind. However, I am starting to think that basic science's role in society may not be so different from the arts. We have best-selling popular science books, documentaries, and extremely popular science museums and exhibitions all over the world. The most interesting scientific discoveries can inspire anyone, anywhere. What's the difference between a mind-bending science exhibition that inspires, makes the mind buzz with ideas and excitement and an art exhibition that does the same? As I learn more about the world, I find that (scientific) facts are often stranger – and more fascinating – than fiction. Atoms as building blocks of matter, single cells as the building blocks of life and of making any of us – clumps of flesh with conscious and (somewhat) intelligent thought – possible. And we are the ones that came up with the sciences and the arts that bring us closer to understanding ourselves and the world we live in. Witnessing the ever-increasing science-related exhibitions and even science-inspired art, I have come to think that I’m not alone in thinking this.
So to the fellow basic scientists: it might be alright to be a little less hard on ourselves. Even without considering the immediate applications of our science, we are producing a body of work that will be useful for our colleagues, and will help build a deeper understanding of our fields of study. Furthermore, we are building a body of knowledge for humankind that will inspire new generations, allowing everyone – not only scientists – to understand the world we live in a little more. For this knowledge to be shared with everyone, it means we must do a good job in science communication across media types and across different parts of society (e.g., schools, press, books, etc.). In a sense, it’s amazing that we live in a society with institutions and funding bodies that support us to do such research and encourage its dissemination to the public. To sum up, I’ve finally convinced myself that the pursuit of knowledge through basic science is valuable to society, and is something worth doing for myself. Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living". Though I wouldn't go so as far as that, I would say that a life dedicated to the study of ourselves and the world around us is certainly a life worth living.
