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How do you become a scientist? Ask anyone in the profession and you’ll probably hear some version of the following: get a bachelor’s of science degree, work in a lab, get into a Ph.D. program, publish some papers, get a good postdoctoral position, publish some more papers, and then apply for a tenure-track job at a large university. It’s a long road—and you get to spend those 10 to 15 years as a poor graduate student or underpaid postdoc, while you watch your peers launch careers, start families, and contribute to their 401(k) plans.

And then comes the academic job market. According to Brandeis University biochemist Gregory Petsko, who recently chaired a National Academy of Sciences committee on the postdoctoral experience in the United States, less than 20 percent of aspiring postdocs today get highly coveted jobs in academia. That’s less than 1 in 5. Naturally, many more end up in industry, in government, and in many other sectors—but not the one they were trained for or probably hoping for. “We’re fond of saying that we should prepare people for alternative careers,” explains Pesko, “without realizing that we’re the alternative career.”

Ethan Perlstein was one of these postdocs—before he decided he’d had enough. He had gotten his Ph.D. at Harvard under Stuart Schreiber, the legendary chemist, and then gone on to a prestigious postdoctoral fellowship in genomics at Princeton. He’d published in top journals, like the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences and Genetics. He’d put in 13 years. But that “came to a close at the end of 2012,” says Perlstein on the latest episode of the Inquiring Minds podcast, “when I encountered what I have been calling the postdocalypse, which is this pretty bad job market for professionally trained Ph.Ds—life scientists, in particular.” After two years of searching for an assistant professorship, going up against an army of highly qualified, job-hungry scientists, he gave up.

But it wasn’t just the competition for jobs that deterred Perlstein. Once you land a tenure-track job, you often have to get a big government grant in order to actually get tenure. And those grants are becoming ever more competitive, meaning that young faculty members usually need to apply multiple times before securing one. That is, if they actually do get one before the university that employs them loses patience.

“I guess I just thought, ‘Well, I don’t want to keep waiting any more,'” recalls Perlstein. “At the time I was 33, and thought, ‘Well, I’m also seeing the statistic that says that the average age at which an independent biomedical research gets their first big grant from the NIH is 43 or 42.’ And I just thought, ‘Another 10 years of just waiting around for my turn in line?'”

You’ve probably heard the claim that the United States needs to produce more scientists, like Perlstein, to remain competitive with up-and-coming science powerhouses like India and China. It is a familiar litany whenever we hear laments about American science and its disturbing habit of resting on its laurels. But what you rarely hear in this argument is the fact that we don’t have nearly enough jobs to put to work the scientists we currently have. “U.S. higher education produces far more science and engineering graduates annually than there are S&E job openings,” writes Harvard researcher Michael Teitelbaum, “the only disagreement is whether it is 100 percent or 200 percent more.”