The science lab is often perceived as a place of noble endeavour, where the conflicts and political manoeuvring of the average workplace are transcended by shared goals to, say, unravel the mysteries of the cosmos or cure cancer.



However, the experience of life as a scientist sometimes appears to be at odds with these ideals. In the past year, a series of high-profile cases in the US and Europe suggest alarming levels of harassment and bullying within the academic sector. In a recent survey by the University and College Union, one-quarter of researchers said they had been bullied by colleagues, with many reporting enduring trauma and anxiety.

Petra Boynton, a social psychologist who has researched bullying within higher education, said: “It’s an open secret in the profession. You’re hard-pressed to find a department that hasn’t got a bully and some places are a nest of them.”

Academia is not the only sector affected by bullying, but an unusual combination of factors mean bullies can, in some cases, thrive unchecked for decades.

First is the significant power imbalance that exists between a PhD student and their supervisor. Many students have supportive mentors who help navigate failed experiments, secure crucial first journal publications and celebrate the successes of their academic progeny with enthusiasm – often long into their careers. But if the relationship turns sour, students can find themselves out on a limb with little support and no references, and without the employment rights afforded to a staff scientist.

The next rungs in the academic career ladder tend to be a series of precarious, short-term contracts, characterised by pressure to “publish or perish”. The journey towards a permanent post – of which there are never enough to go around – can easily be derailed by a botched experiment. Difficult relationships within the laboratory often appear to be viewed as just another thing to grit your teeth about.

Bullying, like harassment, is often performed in secret, hard to prove and operates along a continuum. Some may only characterise their experience as bullying after they have moved on, and others may feel the risks of bringing formal complaints against a colleague or superior are too great.

A common complaint among those who chose to bring grievances is a failure of universities to challenge senior academics, who are often free to transfer large programme grants elsewhere if disciplinary action is on the horizon. “Institutions will protect the golden goose,” said Boynton. “So people think they can act with impunity.”

Instead, bullies are frequently explained away as “difficult characters” whose unpleasant behaviour is seen as a price to pay for their savant-like intellectual powers. “A common narrative is ‘these brilliant people just can’t help themselves’,” said Boynton.

The Wellcome Trust is one of the first major funders to introduce a formal anti-bullying policy on grants to address this issue, in a move that has been widely applauded by scientists.

Prof Alison Phipps, a sociologist at Sussex University who has investigated bullying there, cites a lack of management training among senior scientists as another problem. Some leading scientists have an “I’m too clever for this” attitude, while others are not offered the opportunity.

An increasing preoccupation with rankings, metrics and impact has also created a pressure-cooker workplace environment, Phipps suggests. “This is not just about a few bad apples,” she said. “We need to look at what’s driving this toxic behaviour and creating a situation where people feel like they’re going to explode.”