Share Facebook

Twitter

Whatsapp

Mail

Whatsapp Catherine Osborne

When the global financial crisis hit, forcing microbiologist Catherine Osborne to return from scientific work in the United States, she found that getting a job in the Australian research industry isn't the hard part—staying in one is.

It's quite difficult, when you are overseas and not currently affiliated with any Australian university, to land a science job in Australia. But in 2011, I was lucky enough to get a postdoctoral position, at a Group of Eight university.

Institutes have financial incentives to push out as many PhDs as possible, with little thought as to what sorts of career those PhDs might be headed to.

The position required environmental microbiology skills—developed during my PhD plus years spent in research at CSIRO and at Berkeley.

The university offered me a 12-month contract. Now, one of the reasons I had done a PhD was to avoid 12-month contracts, so I requested a three-year contract.

I didn't expect tenure, but I did want better career options than living 12 months at a time. They agreed to see how it was going after the first year, then contemplate a longer term contract.

Did you know The Science Show is also a podcast? Subscribe on iTunes, the ABC Radio app or your favourite podcasting app and listen later.

One year is barely enough time to get anything done in environmental microbiology, but by the end of it, I had a new lab all set up, I'd taught a whole bunch of students environmental microbiology. I was even beginning to get some interesting results. And I helped write an Australian Research Council Linkage Grant for a three-year project.

When we got that grant, I was excited: it meant I was part of a three-year project. I thought all of the unofficial supervision I was giving PhD students could then be official for the term of their three-year projects.

I was wrong. I was told that because I had been a co-author on the grant, my salary couldn't be taken from the grant. If I had contributed my intellectual property but not included my name on it, they could have paid me, but because I was named—because I actually contributed ideas and words—I couldn't be paid from this grant.

I dug in my heels with the university about a three-year contract, but they insisted that it was a university-wide policy to only give one-year contracts to postdoctorates. One year! For someone with almost 10 years of scientific experience! From one of the most prestigious and wealthiest universities in this country!

Share Facebook

Twitter

Whatsapp

Mail

Whatsapp Catherine Osborne in 2013

Why was I pushing so hard for a three-year contract? Other than the fact that I had almost 10 years of experience, there is another small reason. I have a friend who worked at a highly regarded research institute that prides itself on its gender policies. After seven years of rolling contracts, when she went on maternity leave, her contract was not renewed, no reason given. You might think that a decision like this only affects that one woman, or that institute. But it doesn't. Everyone single one of her female friends in science takes note and it makes them uneasy. This is why, at the age of 31, I was no longer interested in 12-month contracts.

When my old boss at CSIRO mentioned a great three-year postdoctoral position, I thought this was my chance to continue doing cutting-edge environmental microbiology again, even if it meant moving cities. I was wrong again.

Read: Universities can learn from business, says UNSW dean

The CSIRO Staff Association has a very strict rule that only people within three years of completing their PhDs can apply for a postdoctorate position: the assumption is, anyone with a PhD would surely have a permanent position after three years.

That might have been the case back in the '70s, but it's certainly not the case today.

Not even the hardest-working scientists I did my PhD with are lucky enough to have an ongoing position 10 years after finishing their PhDs.

Both the CSIRO Staff Association's and the Australian Research Council's archaic rules heavily contributed to my stepping away from science after 10 years.

Share Facebook

Twitter

Whatsapp

Mail

Whatsapp Catherine Osborne in 2009

I have a PhD and five years of postdoctoral experience, 80 per cent of which has been funded by the Australian taxpayer, and to me, that seems like a huge waste of money.

Since I completed my PhD, this country now has double the number of PhDs starting each year, which seems like even more of a waste. PhDs are cheap labour in the scientific industry: all of the institutes have financial incentives to push out as many PhDs as possible, with little thought as to what sorts of career those PhDs might be headed to.

I get frustrated that the Academy of Sciences constantly lobbies the government for more PhD scholarships, while mid-career scientists, who are much more productive, languish.

There is some benefit to postgraduate learning, but I would like to see the Academy limit the number of PhD entrants to sustainable levels.

Read: Why are international students charged such high fees?

For four years now, I have been on the commercial side of science, with my first ever ongoing contract. In my job I interact with scientists every day, and I am still horrified by the stories I hear from mid-career scientists—both male and female—who are harder working and far more successful scientists than I ever was. Many of them feel burnt out, and prepared to throw it all in.

At a recent biological research seminar I attended, 80 per cent of the people under 30 were female. This was reversed for people over 40. The biological sciences certainly have no trouble recruiting bright young females: the issue is retaining them through that critical decade between 30 and 40.

If universities want more women in senior scientific positions, the Academy of Sciences and the national research councils need to change the rules so that the universities and CSIRO begin to treat all of their mid-career scientists, male and female, as valued contributors and not as a dispensable resource that will be replaced by the next flock of PhD students.

I'm out of the research game now. I'm glad I got away from the stress and uncertainty, though sometimes I feel like there is unfinished business, but I mainly worry for the hard-working mid-career scientists who are still in the game.