Let's Not Crowd Me, I'm Only a Scientist

Me, a scientist, the subject of interest. Imagine that. Since September 11 and Hurricane Katrina, everyone has wanted to talk about what I do. At dinner parties and in coffee shops, I am constantly assailed by inquiries about my work, my opinion, my outlook for the future. In 2004, I left academia to become a fellow at the Department of Homeland Security's Science and Technology Directorate. I joined a group of phenomenally competent people dedicated to the research and development of advanced technologies to save lives and property in the aftermath of a natural or man-made disaster. And I became a social superstar.

It wasn't always this way. Just a few years ago, I was a graduate student in chemical physics, working on obscure problems involving terms like quantum mechanics, supercooled liquids and statistical thermodynamics. The work I was doing was fascinating, and I could have explained the basic concepts with ease. Sure, people would sometimes ask about my work in the same way they say "How are you?" when you pass them in the hall, but no one, other than the occasional fellow scientist, would actually want to know. No one wanted to hear about a boring old scientist doing boring old science.

People want to hear only about how there's now a cell phone that plays iTunes, or maybe about cool communications that will facilitate emergency responses. But think about all the science that goes into making a cell phone work. Someone had to figure out the equations of electromagnetic waves, circuitry and myriad other scientific details. People have to figure all that stuff out, people who could have made more money and garnered greater prestige had they applied their skills in fields like patent law, business or medicine.

I find it odd that a society so dependent on science is so uninterested in it. Our military dominance, our economic strength and our high quality of life are all outgrowths of our scientific achievements. And as we search for renewable-energy sources to avoid gas crises, advanced medical technologies to increase our length and quality of life and, of course, methods of dealing with terrorists and the next Katrina, this isn't likely to change. Here's an enlightening exercise: sit down with a pen and a paper and see how many actors and actresses you can name who have won Academy Awards. Now name a scientist who has won a Nobel Prize. Did you remember the great Dudley Herschbach, molecular-beam pioneer? I'd guess not.

What seems particularly strange to me is that we're conscious of the people, like doctors and inventors, who directly deliver the technology that makes this a fine time to be alive. I don't mean to diminish the acts of surgeons who are capable of staggering feats like heart transplants. I just wonder why the thousands of biologists and immunologists who made these transplants possible never get fan mail from transplant survivors.

It's funny, because when I was doing research, I never thought about this. It's only when I stopped doing science and started applying science that I became disturbed by society's uninterest. I was comfortable receiving no recognition for my research, but I am extremely uncomfortable doing something important--homeland security--and being lauded for it when so much of my work rests on the backs of other, unrecognized individuals. I feel like a businessman running a sweatshop. The scientists do the hard work, but I get all the love.