Science Is Bigger Than Scientists

Today marks the birth anniversary of Dr. Homi Jehangir Bhabha, one of the principal architects of modern Indian science. His contributions extended far beyond physics. Through the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research and his leadership in establishing India's atomic energy programme, he helped create a scientific foundation that continues to serve generations of researchers. He recognised that progress required talented people, sustained resources, institutional independence and national commitment. His legacy reminds us that scientific leadership is measured not merely by personal achievements, but by the institutions and opportunities it creates for others.

Remembering Bhabha offers an occasion to reflect on a less-discussed aspect of scientific life: politics within scientific institutions. Scientists are trained to question assumptions, examine evidence and recognise bias. Yet these qualities do not necessarily make them impartial when judging colleagues, allocating resources or exercising authority. Ambition, professional loyalties and competition for recognition are natural features of institutional life. The real test of scientific leadership begins when individual interests compete with the larger interests of science.

Dubious Merit

Imagine a committee of distinguished scientists selecting a candidate for a prestigious position. Everyone agrees that merit must be the sole criterion. The discussion begins with research achievements and originality. Soon, other considerations emerge. One candidate is a former student of an influential member. Another is brilliant but supposedly difficult to work with. A third enjoys strong institutional support. By the end, everyone remains committed to merit, although each has discovered a slightly different definition of it.

Scientific awards, appointments, academy memberships, research grants and committee positions bring recognition and influence. Competition can encourage excellence, but problems arise when the criteria for judging excellence change according to who is being considered.

One such pattern might be called the Merit Game. Publications become decisive when one candidate is considered, leadership when another is preferred, and institutional loyalty when neither criterion produces the desired outcome. Each argument may sound reasonable. The problem is not that merit has several dimensions, but that these dimensions can be selectively emphasised to justify predetermined preferences. Scientific distinction establishes expertise, but does not automatically guarantee fairness in institutional decisions.

Scientific excellence is genuinely difficult to assess. A researcher making a fundamental discovery, another building an outstanding laboratory and a third mentoring generations of scientists may all deserve recognition. Reasonable disagreement is inevitable. Yet familiarity can be mistaken for competence, institutional prestige for individual achievement and visibility for originality. A scientist may demand repeated experiments before accepting a research finding, yet consider one enthusiastic recommendation sufficient to judge a colleague.

Reciprocity Game

Another familiar pattern is the Reciprocity Game. A recommendation today may create an expectation of support tomorrow. Invitations, nominations, committee memberships and endorsements circulate within professional networks. Much of this is legitimate collegiality, since science depends on cooperation and trust. But when personal obligations influence decisions requiring impartiality, professional relationships can become instruments of favouritism.

The influence of professional relationships also extends to scientific credit. Who receives authorship, leads a project or gains recognition for collaborative achievements? Senior researchers can nurture younger colleagues into independent scientists or keep them dependent on their authority. The difference becomes apparent when a younger colleague seeks an independent identity. Genuine scientific leadership should create successors, not permanent followers.

Perhaps the most consequential pattern is the Silence Game. A committee member may disagree with a decision but hesitate to challenge an influential colleague. A younger researcher may recognise unfairness but fear professional consequences. Others remain quiet because they believe disagreement would achieve nothing. When several people privately disagree but nobody speaks, apparent consensus can emerge without genuine agreement.

As these networks become stronger, independent voices grow quieter. Silence is then mistaken for consensus, which becomes the justification for subsequent decisions. Eventually, individual preferences can acquire the legitimacy of institutional tradition. Institutions devoted to questioning established knowledge may thus become uncomfortable when established authority is questioned.

In Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me), psychologists Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson explain how people justify questionable decisions while preserving a favourable image of themselves. Their discussion of cognitive dissonance offers an insight into scientific life.

A scientist who considers himself fair may struggle to acknowledge that personal loyalty influenced a decision. Supporting a familiar candidate becomes recognition of proven competence. Excluding a dissenting colleague becomes necessary for institutional harmony. Promoting a preferred individual becomes protection of academic standards. Such explanations may even be sincerely believed. Scientific training develops the ability to construct rigorous arguments, but those skills can also produce sophisticated justifications for personal preferences. Perhaps the most difficult experiment for a scientist is the one in which the scientist is also the subject.

Not every questionable decision arises from unconscious bias. Some reflect deliberate calculations, while others result from institutional incentives. When advancement depends heavily on recognition, influence and access to resources, political skill can become professionally rewarding. Institutions may unintentionally encourage the very behaviour they claim to discourage.

Politics cannot be eliminated from scientific institutions, nor should every disagreement be interpreted as manipulation. Leadership requires negotiation, persuasion and compromise. Building collaborations, mobilising resources and securing institutional support are legitimate responsibilities. The distinction lies in whether influence strengthens science and creates opportunities for others or primarily consolidates the authority of those already powerful.

Science has developed methods to reduce individual bias in research. Evidence can be independently examined, conclusions challenged and errors corrected. Institutional decisions deserve comparable scrutiny. Selection criteria established in advance, meaningful disclosure of conflicts of interest, independent assessments, documented reasons for decisions and opportunities for dissent can reduce arbitrariness. These safeguards recognise that fairness cannot depend entirely on the personal virtues of individuals, however distinguished they may be.

Good scientific leadership requires the confidence to welcome criticism, share recognition and encourage independent thinking. Its success is reflected in the opportunities created for others, particularly younger scientists, and in institutions that endure beyond the tenure of individual leaders.

On Bhabha’s birth anniversary, his enduring institution-building legacy offers a meaningful standard against which scientific leadership can be judged. Scientists may become great through science, but science must never become subordinate to scientists.

(The writer is ANRF Prime Minister Professor, COEP Technological University, Pune and former Director, Agharkar Research Institute, Pune. Views personal.)