My dream died, and now I'm here

Summary

En este video, la autora reflexiona sobre su viaje desde el sueño de ser física hasta convertirse en creadora de contenido en YouTube. Habla de sus primeras ilusiones sobre la academia, inspiradas por las biografías de científicos, y cómo la realidad del sistema académico, con su enfoque en la producción de artículos y la obtención de subvenciones, acabó por desilusionarla. También relata experiencias de discriminación de género y cómo, después de luchar con la falta de propósito en la academia, decidió cambiar de rumbo y dedicarse a compartir su amor por la ciencia a través de su plataforma en línea.

Takeaways

• 😀 La protagonista soñaba con ser física, influenciada por biografías de científicos, pero la realidad fue muy distinta.
• 🤔 Sus primeros años en la universidad fueron inspiradores, ya que encontró personas con intereses similares.
• 🙁 A pesar de obtener excelentes calificaciones, no le ofrecieron un trabajo debido a su género; le sugirieron aplicar a una beca exclusiva para mujeres.
• 😡 Se enfrentó a un ambiente laboral machista y se le exigió lealtad a un sistema que explotaba a los estudiantes para escribir libros de texto.
• 💼 La academia resultó ser más un negocio que una búsqueda de conocimiento, con instituciones presionando a los investigadores para que obtuvieran subvenciones.
• 📜 El sistema académico fomenta la producción de artículos y la recaudación de fondos, con poca preocupación por el impacto real del trabajo.
• 🏃‍♀️ Se enfrentó a un entorno hostil para su vida personal, teniendo que mudarse constantemente por su carrera y experimentar un fuerte desgaste mental.
• 😔 Aunque consiguió becas y trabajos, se dio cuenta de que gran parte de la investigación que realizaba no tenía un impacto real en la ciencia.
• 🎥 Decidió cambiar su vida tras la pandemia y comenzó a compartir su pasión por la ciencia en YouTube, con una audiencia que comparte sus intereses.
• 😊 Aunque su sueño inicial de ser científica no se realizó como esperaba, encontró satisfacción en ser honesta y compartir su conocimiento de una manera directa.

Q & A

¿Por qué la protagonista decidió estudiar física en la universidad?

Decidió estudiar física porque pensaba que ser física era su trabajo soñado, influenciada por las biografías de científicos que admiraba.

¿Qué expectativas tenía la protagonista sobre la vida académica antes de ingresar a la universidad?

Esperaba un ambiente de pensadores y debatientes respetuosos, basándose en las cartas y conferencias de científicos famosos. Creía que sería un espacio para discusiones intelectuales enriquecedoras.

¿Qué impacto tuvo su género en su trayectoria profesional en la universidad?

El hecho de ser mujer afectó su carrera, ya que el director del instituto le sugirió aplicar a una beca exclusiva para mujeres para evitar pagarle directamente, lo que le generó desventajas como no tener acceso a beneficios como seguro médico o pensión.

¿Por qué la protagonista está en contra de programas exclusivos para mujeres en la ciencia?

Cree que estos programas refuerzan el prejuicio de que las mujeres son menos capaces que los hombres y perpetúan una visión discriminatoria en el ámbito académico.

¿Qué problemas encontró la protagonista en la academia, especialmente en la investigación científica?

Descubrió que muchas instituciones académicas priorizan la obtención de fondos y la producción de artículos por encima de la verdadera búsqueda del conocimiento, creando un sistema donde los estudiantes y postdoctorales son explotados para mantener este ciclo.

¿Por qué la protagonista decidió alejarse de la academia y buscar otras opciones?

Se dio cuenta de que la academia estaba más centrada en ganar dinero y producir artículos que en descubrir conocimientos. Además, los proyectos de investigación que realmente le interesaban no conseguían financiación, lo que la llevó a buscar otras alternativas.

¿Cómo afectó su vida personal su carrera académica?

Su carrera afectó gravemente su vida personal, especialmente con largos desplazamientos entre ciudades para su trabajo. Esto la desgastó emocional y físicamente, afectando su salud mental y su tiempo con su familia.

¿Cómo influyó la pandemia de COVID-19 en su cambio de carrera?

La pandemia la hizo reflexionar sobre lo corta que es la vida, lo que la impulsó a dejar de trabajar en investigaciones que no consideraba significativas y a buscar una carrera que le permitiera hacer lo que realmente le apasionaba.

¿Qué razones da la protagonista para encontrar más honestidad en su nueva carrera en YouTube?

Valora la simplicidad de su nueva carrera, donde intercambia conocimiento por la atención de su audiencia, lo que considera más directo y sincero que el sistema académico basado en la obtención de fondos.

¿Cómo describe su experiencia en YouTube en comparación con su vida en la academia?

Describe su experiencia en YouTube como un alivio, ya que le ha permitido encontrar una comunidad interesada en los problemas fundamentales de la física, mientras que la academia la había frustrado por su enfoque en producir artículos sin un propósito significativo.

Outlines

00:00

🤔 De sueños científicos a la realidad de YouTube

El autor comienza explicando cómo su sueño de ser físico cambió radicalmente al encontrarse en YouTube. Relata cómo sus expectativas sobre la academia, basadas en la lectura de biografías de científicos, se desmoronaron. Aunque al principio disfrutó de la universidad, siendo parte de una comunidad intelectual, pronto enfrentó la realidad de la falta de oportunidades laborales. El autor narra cómo, a pesar de graduarse con excelentes calificaciones, fue rechazada para un puesto por ser mujer y fue empujada a solicitar una beca exclusiva para mujeres, algo que critica profundamente.

05:04

💼 El verdadero propósito de las instituciones académicas

El autor continúa describiendo cómo, al observar más de cerca el mundo académico, se dio cuenta de que muchas instituciones no están orientadas hacia el descubrimiento del conocimiento, sino hacia la generación de ingresos. Explica cómo el financiamiento por becas y subvenciones beneficia a las instituciones a través de los 'overheads' y cómo los investigadores se ven presionados para conseguir más fondos. Critica el sistema de producción masiva de artículos científicos, donde los estudiantes y postdoctorales son utilizados para generar publicaciones y fondos para las instituciones, en lugar de centrarse en la verdadera investigación.

10:06

😞 El desencanto con la investigación académica

Después de varias becas y puestos postdoctorales, el autor reflexiona sobre cómo aprendió a manipular las solicitudes de subvenciones para obtener financiamiento, a pesar de que la mayoría de los proyectos eran, en su opinión, inútiles. Lamenta que gran parte de la investigación académica actual carezca de impacto real y se realice simplemente para cumplir con los requisitos del sistema. A pesar de haber intentado hacer investigaciones más significativas, el autor se dio cuenta de que el sistema estaba diseñado para perpetuar proyectos convencionales y poco innovadores.

💡 Un giro hacia la independencia y la honestidad

El autor describe cómo, tras años de frustración con el sistema académico, finalmente decidió cambiar de rumbo durante la pandemia de COVID-19. Intentó obtener financiamiento para proyectos que realmente le interesaban, pero al no conseguirlo, encontró una nueva vía en YouTube. Reflexiona sobre cómo este nuevo camino le ha permitido hablar de ciencia de manera honesta y directa, creando una comunidad interesada en los mismos temas que ella. Aunque su historia es, en parte, triste debido a la pérdida de su sueño académico, encuentra satisfacción en el trabajo independiente y el intercambio directo con su audiencia.

Keywords

💡Academia

La academia se refiere a las instituciones educativas y de investigación, como universidades e institutos científicos, donde se lleva a cabo la investigación formal. En el video, la narradora refleja su desilusión con la academia, explicando que su objetivo ha cambiado de la búsqueda de conocimiento a la generación de dinero a través de becas y publicaciones. Esto es central en su crítica del sistema académico.

💡Becas de investigación

Las becas de investigación son fondos otorgados para financiar proyectos científicos o académicos. En el video, la narradora menciona que fue obligada a solicitar una beca dirigida solo a mujeres, lo cual le trajo problemas porque la hacía sentir fuera de lugar. Critica cómo las instituciones académicas dependen de las becas para generar ingresos mediante el 'overhead'.

💡Sobrecostos (Overhead)

El 'overhead' es la parte de los fondos de una beca o subvención que se destina a cubrir los costos administrativos de la institución. En el video, la narradora explica que las instituciones presionan a los investigadores a conseguir becas, ya que una parte significativa de esos fondos (entre 15% y 50%) va directamente a la institución para pagar salarios y gastos administrativos.

💡Producción de artículos

La producción de artículos se refiere al proceso de crear y publicar investigaciones científicas. La narradora critica cómo en la academia moderna, publicar artículos se ha convertido en un fin en sí mismo, necesario para asegurar becas y mantener los trabajos académicos, pero a menudo desconectado del progreso científico real. Se ha convertido en una máquina de producción de papeles.

💡Ciencia mainstream

La ciencia 'mainstream' hace referencia a las investigaciones y teorías que son aceptadas o promovidas por la mayoría de la comunidad científica. En el video, la narradora señala que para obtener becas, los proyectos deben estar dentro de este marco aceptado, lo que limita la creatividad y la exploración de ideas más radicales o innovadoras. Se convierte en una barrera para investigaciones fuera de lo común.

💡Causalidad indefinida

La causalidad indefinida es un concepto avanzado en física que se refiere a situaciones en las que no es posible determinar un orden causal entre eventos. La narradora menciona este tema al final, bromeando que su comunidad debería prestar más atención a su video sobre este concepto, lo que refleja su frustración por la falta de interés en temas más teóricos y profundos dentro de la ciencia.

💡Ciencia como negocio

Este concepto se refiere a la transformación de la ciencia de una búsqueda de conocimiento a una actividad orientada hacia la obtención de dinero. La narradora describe cómo la academia se ha convertido en un sistema donde se prioriza la obtención de subvenciones y becas por encima del descubrimiento de conocimiento, generando una máquina de producción de artículos y proyectos que rara vez contribuyen significativamente a la ciencia.

💡Prejuicio de género

El prejuicio de género se refiere a la discriminación basada en el género de una persona. En el video, la narradora relata cómo fue discriminada por ser mujer cuando le sugirieron que, en lugar de contratarla, solicitara una beca exclusiva para mujeres. Este incidente refleja los desafíos que enfrentan las mujeres en campos dominados por hombres, como la ciencia y la academia.

💡Desgaste personal

El desgaste personal en el contexto del video se refiere al impacto físico y emocional negativo que la vida académica tuvo en la narradora, particularmente debido a las demandas de viajar constantemente y equilibrar el trabajo con la vida familiar. A lo largo del video, describe cómo su 'murder commute' entre Alemania y Suecia y las exigencias académicas afectaron su salud mental y física.

💡Vocación científica

La vocación científica es el deseo intrínseco de una persona de dedicarse al estudio y descubrimiento de nuevas verdades científicas. Aunque la narradora inicialmente sentía que ser física era su vocación, con el tiempo perdió esta pasión debido a las presiones y frustraciones dentro de la academia. Sin embargo, su pasión por la ciencia persiste, lo que la llevó a cambiar su enfoque hacia la divulgación científica en YouTube.

Highlights

The speaker initially pursued a career in physics, believing it to be her dream job, but eventually shifted to YouTube.

She came from a non-academic family and had no personal connections to scientists, making her expectations of university life based on biographies of famous scientists.

During her early years at university, she enjoyed being among like-minded people and had a strong interest in science and math.

Despite excellent grades, she was not offered a job at the physics institute because she was a woman and was instead directed to apply for a gender-specific scholarship.

Her experience with the gender-specific scholarship made her critical of programs exclusively for women, as she believed they reinforced gender-based prejudice.

The speaker resisted pressure from the head of the institute to contribute to his textbooks, leading to a confrontation that revealed the institute's focus on money over knowledge.

She realized that academia was often more about generating money through research grants than genuine scientific discovery.

The pressure in academia to produce papers, secure grants, and churn through postdocs led her to question the value and integrity of much of the research being conducted.

Her personal life, including being a mother of two and commuting between countries, contributed to her decision to step back from the academic rat race.

She became disillusioned with the research field, seeing much of it as disconnected from reality and filled with 'bullshit' projects just to secure funding.

The onset of COVID reminded her of the fleeting nature of life, prompting her to pursue more meaningful research, but her proposal was rejected.

She eventually transitioned to being self-employed on YouTube, where she found a more honest and fulfilling exchange with her audience.

Although her story reflects a disillusionment with academia, she acknowledges that this is her personal experience and that others might find academia fulfilling.

The speaker found solace in connecting with a community of people who share her interest in science, even if it's outside the mainstream.

She expresses contentment in her new role, appreciating the simplicity of the exchange between knowledge and attention, unlike the complexities of academic research.

Transcripts

When I signed up for studying at the university, I thought being a physicist was my dream job.

But here I am, on YouTube.

How did that happen?

I think I owe you an explanation.

When I started studying at the university my expectations were based on biographies

of scientists.

They wrote a lot of letters to each other; they went to conferences.

They were thinkers and tinkerers and had sometimes heated but usually respectful arguments.

This is what I expected.

Yes, that was hopelessly naïve, I know I know.

But.

In my defense.

I don’t come from an academic background.

I come from a family of teachers and accountants and post office workers.

They’re normal people.

I did an internship in the chemical industry and another one at a bank, gleefully stamping

transfer slips.

I just didn’t know anyone with a PhD.

And those were the early 1990s.

You couldn’t just ask the internet and within a day you have 2000 people giving you advice,

and some marriage proposals along with that.

The first years at university were glorious.

Because for the first time in my life I was in the company of other people who were like

me.

At school I had always been the weird one for actually being interested in science and

maths.

But at the university everyone was like that.

We talked about everything from maths to philosophy, physics and politics.

And yes, alcohol was involved.

It was a really good time.

And that was all very nice, except I was getting older and still didn’t have a decent job.

I made a little money by selling oil paintings, those were the days people, but I didn’t

seriously think I was a particularly good artist.

I really had to get a normally job and stop asking my grandma to help out with paying

rent.

I thought that the institute of physics would give me a job when I’d finished my masters

degree with good grades.

Though technically at the time that was called a diploma.

I thought they’d give me a job that because that had worked for all the other students

previously.

If your grades were good, they’d offer you a job as a graduate student.

It wasn’t particularly great pay, but it was a real job.

And that’s where things started to go wrong.

Because I finished my exams with excellent grades.

I don’t mean to brag, but I think you need this context.

But I wasn’t offered a job because I’m a woman.

I’m not guessing that that’s what happened, I know, because they told me.

You see, the guy who was head of the institute told me that, since I’m female I should

apply for a scholarship that was exclusively for women in the natural sciences.

Because then the institute wouldn’t have to pay for me.

Makes sense, doesn’t it.

So, well, I applied for the scholarship and got it, alright.

But these scholarships don’t come with any benefits like pension savings and health insurance.

I know this sounds very German, but these things matter to us.

Also, I was now reminded on various occasions that I wasn’t actually employed at the institute.

I was just there because I had this scholarship for women.

And that was totally true.

This by the way is why I am against programs or positions that are exclusively for women.

I think that treating women differently just reinforces the prejudice that women are less

capable than men.

But I digress.

Alright, you might say, stop whining, at least I did have an income now.

Yes, so far so good.

At this time I was the only woman at the institute, except for the administration.

But the next problem was that the head of the institute made a lot of money with selling

textbooks.

He wrote very little of these textbooks himself.

Rather, he gave assignments for parts of the books to students and postdocs.

Which is why, in case you’ve ever wondered, these textbooks are so discontinuous and partly

repetitive.

He expected me to also work for him, to which I said “no”.

I was then ordered into his office, in which he gave me a very angry speech, according

to which I was not “loyal” to all the other students who did their part.

I told him that I was under no obligation to work for him and didn’t care what the

rest of the students were thinking.

He got angry, I laughed at him, he started shouting that I was fired and physically shoved

me out of his office.

True story.

The irony is that he couldn’t fire me because, if you remember, he had refused to hire me

in the first place.

I was paid by that scholarship for women and that wasn’t managed by the institute but

by the office of the university president.

I’m not just telling you this because it’s entertaining, it was also a rather rude awakening.

It made me realize that this institute wasn’t about knowledge discovery.

It was about money making.

And the more I saw of academia, the more I realized it wasn’t just this particular

institute and this particular professor.

It was generally the case.

The moment you put people into big institutions the goal shifts from knowledge discovery to

money making.

Here’s how this works.

If a researcher gets a scholarship or research grant, then the institution gets part of that

money.

It’s called the “overhead”.

Technically that’s meant to pay for offices and equipment and admin etc.

But academic institutions then part of their staff from this overhead, so they need to

keep that overhead coming.

Small scholarships don’t make much money, but research grants can be tens of millions

of dollars.

And the overhead can be anything between 15 and 50 percent.

This is why research institutions exert loads of pressure on researchers to bring in grant

money.

And partly they do this by keeping the researchers on temporary contracts so that they need grants

to get paid themselves.

While the administrators who are paid on the overhead usually have permanent positions.

But you get used to this kind of crap.

And the overhead isn’t even the real problem.

The real problem is that the easiest way to grow in academia is to pay other people to

produce papers on which you, as the grant holder, can put your name.

That’s how academia works.

Grants pay students and postdocs to produce research papers for the grand holder.

And those papers are what the supervisor then uses to apply for more grants.

The result is a paper production machine, in which students and postdocs are burnt through

to bring in money for the institution.

Most of that money comes from your taxes.

After my PhD, I applied for another scholarship and got that and then I got a postdoc job

and a grant and another job and another job and another grant, and so on.

And I began to understand what you need to do to get a grant or get hired.

You have to work on topics that are mainstream enough but not too mainstream.

You want them to be a little bit edgy.

But not too edgy, noo.

it needs to be something that fits into the existing machinery.

And since most grants are 3 years or 5 years at most, it also needs to be something that

can be wrapped up quickly.

The more I saw of this, the more I realized this wasn’t how I wanted to spend my life.

The other thing that happened was that the more I saw of the foundations of physics,

the more I became convinced that most of the research there wasn’t based on sound scientific

principles.

I know this sounds wild, like I’m the crank next door on YouTube.

And maybe that’s what I am.

But I like to think that my argument was and still is very academic.

I never intended it to be offensive.

I just explained why thinking up new particles isn’t a good strategy for progress in physics,

and why that had gotten an entire disciple stuck.

And naïve as I was, I expected physicists to think about it.

I expected rational debate.

But that never came.

No one was interested.

No one is interested.

They were interested in writing more papers.

And that’s what they need all these particles and other wild ideas for.

To write papers.

To get grants.

To get postdocs.

To write more papers.

And round and round it goes.

Meanwhile, I had moved half around the world because that’s standard for postdocs.

It’s just expected of you.

And at some point you just accept the constant moving as normal because the only people you

know also do it.

It’s incredibly hostile to personal life, detrimental to mental health, and women suffer

from it because our reproductive reality is that we need to start families earlier than

men.

By my mid-thirties, I had somehow miraculously managed to get married and have two children.

But I couldn’t find a job anywhere near my husband.

So for several years I commuted from Frankfurt to Stockholm.

And yes, those cities are actually in different countries.

After 5 years of my murder commute, I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I constantly felt guilty for not working more and not spending more time with my kids.

My mental health was worse than ever, I was permanently stressed out, I had several nervous

breakdowns, I was constantly ill.

I decided I’d go back to Germany and not move out of country again, until the kids

were out of school.

Instead, I applied for research grants on projects that lasted one two or three years

and that could be located in Germany.

A lot of water has flown under the bridge since, so let me be honest.

At this point I’d figured out what you need to put into a grant proposal to get the money.

And that’s what I did.

I applied for grants on research projects because it was a way to make money, not because

I thought it would leave an impact in the history of science.

It’s not that was I did was somehow wrong.

It was, and still is, totally state of the art.

I did what I said I’d do in the proposal, I did the calculation, I wrote the paper,

I wrote my reports, and the reports were approved.

Normal academic procedure.

But I knew it was bullshit just as most of the work in that area is currently bullshit

and just as most of academic research that your taxes pay for is almost certainly bullshit.

The real problem I had, I think, is that I was bad at lying to myself.

Of course, I’d try to tell myself and anyone who was willing to listen that at least unofficially

on the side I would do the research that I thought was worth my time but that I couldn’t

get money for because it was too far off the mainstream.

But that research never got done because I had to do the other stuff that I actually

got paid for.

Then COVID came and it reminded me how short life really is.

I pivoted, applied for funding on the research that I wanted to do, that I was rather afraid

wouldn’t get funded.

It didn’t get funded.

And so here we are, on YouTube.

Where I talk about why I love science and hate it at the same time.

This sounds like a sad story and in some sense it is.

Because it’s the story of a young scientist whose dream died.

And it’s the story of an old scientist who thinks they could have made a difference,

if it hadn’t been necessary to get past 5 reviewers who didn’t share my interests

because that’s what it comes down to eventually.

It’s not that they say there’s something wrong with your proposal.

It just doesn’t excite them because it’s not the main current interest.

My problem has always been that I just didn’t fit in.

But there’s a happy ending in that I’ve found you.

A community of people who share my interests.

Well, more or less, or why the heck have you not been watching my video on indefinite causal

structures.

It’s been quite a change to switch from academia to being self-employed.

I had to learn how to write invoices.

I had to register a business.

I have a tax consultant, two agents, and a twelve-person team that’s distributed over

half the world.

Very steep learning curve.

Mistakes were made.

But eventually, today, I feel good about it because unlike academic research, this is

an honest trade.

You get some of my knowledge.

I get some of your attention.

I like the simplicity of that.

And I am also heartened that there are so many people who care about obscure problems

in the foundations of physics.

Though I think you underestimate the relevance of indefinite causal structures.

So, that’s my story, no more and no less.

Please do not think that my experience with academia is universal or that I have claimed

it is.

I know many people who love academia the way it is and who think it’s working just fine.

I’m just not one of them.

Have never been, and I don’t think I’ll ever be.

I’m not sure if I’m going to post this video.

It’s a bit too much isn’t it.