Put on your game face

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, most new grad students have a fairly altruistic view of science, even if they hold a more cynical view of the world at large. When you are just starting down that path toward a career in science, you often think only one thing should matter: the science. You are convinced that this is what you'll spend the vast majority of your time doing; that science will be the sole focus of you, your peers, your superiors, your collaborators; that as you advance in your career, you will be evaluated on the quality of that science.

Here's the thing about science: It's done by humans, which means human nature enters into the equation. There are two dicta of human interactions, which complicate things:

• Where two or more people are gathered together, there also shall be disagreement.
• Where four or more people are gathered together, there also shall be factions.

There may be exceptions (but I'm doubtful). In my experience though, anytime you get a group of people together, even if working for a common purpose, politics enter the picture--even in science. chall's post on work politics she's dealing with really got me to thinking about this. The politics don't stop at the lab; they extend into departments, institutes, entire fields of science. How we engage, how we react can impact our careers. It sometimes comes down to how we play the game.

Navigating politics can be a challenge. If you're new to a lab, the dividing line is not always clear, as chall points out. Honestly, this may not be a bad thing; it's easier to stay out of the politics in this situation. Being a veteran in a lab is not always beneficial because the politics can bog you down. They can sap a lot of energy and focus out of you that would be best spent on other things. Trust me. I went there in Bear's lab; it was exhausting and infuriating. There reached a point when things in my life outside of the lab were taking so much energy that I couldn't afford to put any more into frustrated factions. I was far more focused when that happened.

This does not mean we can completely ignore the politics of science and units therein, but we do have to learn the rules of the game and how to choose our battles. Here are a few things I've interpreted from experience and observation during my relatively short time in science (in no particular order):

• If you're at an early career stage, tread carefully, but...
• Occasionally you have to show someone that you will not be his/her doormat.
• You can get by with a lot until you piss off one of these people: the lab manager, the lab admin, or the PI.
• Try not to burn bridges. Any given field of science is a small world after all. You never know when you might be working with/near/for someone you thought you'd never see again.
• You have to be seen. In a meeting with grad students following a seminar at PSU, Ben Cravatt shared one lesson he wished he had learned before starting his independent career. He commented that he thought working hard and doing great science would be enough to get the high profile publications and funding. He realized shortly thereafter that he had to be seen; he needed to go to meetings and present his work, so that he could connect with the people that would be reviewing his manuscripts and grants and begin to establish name recognition. In short, build a network.

To an extent, grad students and postdocs are insulated from the politics of their institutes and fields, which places a definite limitation on the list I provide here. Add to this, that every department and field has its own culture and political climate. The rules of play vary widely, but in academia, those who have successful independent careers learned to navigate the political landscape without falling off a cliff. We have to do good science, but we also have to learn to play the game.

What's in a name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose/ By any other name would smell as sweet."

Thus says Juliet in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Admittedly, it is possibly one of the most overused quotes of Shakespeare, but in a way (albeit, perhaps a strange and slightly creepy way), it basically sums up my view on the continuing debate of how we define chemistry, biology, and everything in between.

Although this has subject has been a matter of discussion for quite a long time, it has become the center of rather heated debate since the announcement of the 2009 Nobel Prize in Chemistry. The row has been highlighted in a number of blogs and journal editorials including this one in ACS Chemical Biology (a hat tip to Brent Stockwell for the tweeted link). Essentially some folks feel that understanding ribosome structure and function is not Chemistry at all, and it's certainly not the first time in recent years that the Chemistry Prize was awarded for elucidation of molecular functions/interactions of cell-derived molecule These folks feel that the Nobel Prizes in Chemistry are being "stolen" by biology.

Of course, this is really about ruffled feathers and the debate over what "real chemistry" is.

In my opinion, if you're looking at how atoms and molecules behave, bond, and interact, then it's chemistry--whether it's propylene or a P450. Ergo, biochemistry (or chemical biology or biological chemistry or whatever else you want to call it) is chemistry. For that matter, a lot of toxicology and pharmacology are chemistry. Compartmentalization of core sciences (with reference to research) is becoming increasingly difficult--and that's not necessarily a bad thing. There is a continuous spectrum of work running from chemistry to biology to physics. To impose arbitrary divisions between these disciplines and between subfields of these disciplines implies that science is a static thing. It isn't! Science is a changing, moving, dynamic entity.

Admittedly my "world view" of chemistry has been shaped--and some might argue, skewed--by the environments in which I've studied and trained. My undergraduate study was in a "Department of Chemistry and Biochemistry", and even though my degree says B.S. in Biochemistry, there was a strong emphasis on the core chemistry curriculum. This is probably why I chose to apply to graduate programs in chemistry departments that were strongholds for biochemistry. I have a Ph.D. in Chemistry, but my graduate work focused on protein chemistry and enzyme kinetics. There was honestly little division between chemistry and bio-related studies at PSU. This was perhaps aided by the fact that the medical school campus--home to formal departments of biochemistry and pharmacology--adjoined the arts and sciences campus--home to formal departments of chemistry, physics, and biology. The alliance was further promoted by inter-/multi-disciplinary programs, centers, and institutes for structural biology, biophysics, and chemical biology (to name a few) that brought together investigators from the medical school and A&S. There no sense of animosity that a chemistry professor was doing "too much" biology or that a pharmacology professor was doing "too much" chemistry. I daresay, most of them would be hard pressed to define where chemistry (or physics) ends and biology begins.

There is a dark side to the integration of biology, chemistry, and physics. Some have developed the attitude that if there is no biological application, then the work is unimportant. That is utter nonsense. Much of our understanding of the mechanisms by which enzymes act was originally based on analogies to well-characterized chemical reactions. We must take care not to stray into this form of scientific elitism.

Chemistry, biology, physics... We cannot disregard the foundations for our interdisciplinary work. Nor should we attempt to segregate those branches of study that have successfully integrated these core sciences. Our disciplines have evolved an interdependence and, thus far, have thrived in it. There many exciting discoveries yet to come, which would be impossible in the absence of collaboration and integration.