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The low standard of disinterest

Scientists are held to a high standard of proof — their work is expected to be accurate and reliable. They have to place it within the wider scientific literature, justifying any deviations from the known. They are encouraged to use rigorous, replicable tools. And before work is disseminated it must meet the standards and allay the concerns of their peers.

This is the bar which must be met for a piece of work not to be rejected. It will differ between fields and individuals, but most would agree that it is a high bar and rightfully so. There are negative effects of publishing incorrect or misleading results, researchers can devote years of their lives to fruitless paths and the seeds of confusion can be sewn in the public sphere.

Peer review is a hurdle that must be passed over, it is a lower limit.

Today I want to talk about the second standard that all academic work (and creative endeavour in general) must overcome. It must be accepted.

Other people must take the ideas within it. Engage with them. Interact with them in their own future work. Teach and talk about them. To sum it up in one word, people must be interested.

We rarely talk about the requirements (less formal but no less real) on a piece of work to be deemed interesting and worthy of engaging with, and yet it has at least as large an effect on scientific progress.

So much work is produced that if an idea is not engaged with it is lost. Though an accepted journal article will likely be preserved in archives (physical and digital) it can so easily become invisible.

I have written before about the sheer volume of new work produced each week (just under 300 astrophysics papers, for example, most tens of pages long) and the effect it is having on the scientific culture. In this deluge of publication, it is so easy to lose a paper, an idea or a person.

And this is a standard applied before a piece is published also — ideas need nurturing, sharing and developing. This is especially true of new paradigms, of fresh perspectives and of young minds. Speaking personally for a moment, many more projects that I have set out on have been abandoned after failing to find engagement, rather than due to lack of scientific merit.

If peer-review is a hurdle that must be jumped, disengagement with an individual, idea or project is a low doorframe, that we must continuously stoop to avoid for fear of collision — and the promise of the disorienting and painful sensation of bumping of the corner of an institutional zeitgeist.

And so, I would like to set out what I believe to be a brief summary of the unofficial tenets we use to apply the low standard of disinterest. I write these with a smile and a sense of play (something always hard to gauge via a medium like this). Many come from my own experience or observations of those around me, and I welcome comment on the veracity and fullness of this list.

I’ve never heard of you.

I’ve never heard of your institution.

I have heard of you or your institution (I think the name sounds familiar at least) and I vaguely remember deciding I didn’t approve.

I’ve already thought about that idea, and it bores me now.

I have not thought about your idea, and it would probably bore me.

I’ve never read or seen anyone else think about this.

I have read or seen others think about this. I don’t remember the details but I presume they knew best.

I don’t feel very knowledgeable about this subject, but let me suggest a few people who do. You should talk to them instead. (note — you would be shocked how often this leads in full circles)

Not enough maths.

Too much maths.

If that were true, I’d probably have to change what I was doing.

I’m very busy teaching so this idea probably isn’t any good.

Bad colour choices.

You don’t seem to know what you're talking about. You should go and find someone who will help you develop your idea further before I help you develop your idea further.

It’s too simple.

It’s too complex.

There was a paper on that I read in grad school. No, of course, I don’t remember the details.

There was someone I knew working on that in grad school, not sure anything came out of that so it probably won’t from this.

I’m having a bad day.

You’re having a bad day.

You haven’t run a simulation yet.

You haven’t compared to data yet.

You’ve run the wrong simulation and/or compared to the wrong data.

You’re much more computer literate than me.

I’m much more computer literate than you.

You mislabelled the unit on this graph. If that’s true the whole thing seems to be on shaky foundations, I’m out.

You’re trying too hard to sell it.

You’re not trying hard enough to sell it.

We met once but I can’t remember your name and it’s too awkward to ask now. Let’s never work together.

Come back when the idea is more developed.

This idea is too developed.

This research seems to be branching out into a new multidisciplinary field. I am not in that field. I am in my field. This is the field in which I am.

Someone else has a different idea.

Someone else has a similar idea.

If it was a good idea, someone would have had it already.

I am too busy to think about this, and except for a brief period in the late ’90s, have been since 1982.

I’m happy to have a read when you finish a full, presentable, submission-worthy draft.

This draft is too long.

There seems not to be any existing work in that direction.

There’s too much existing work in that direction. I’ll never catch up.

It’ll never get funding.

This isn’t Nature-worthy.

This is “Nature-worthy”.

It’s the sort of thing you can do once you’re a professor.

I’m not going to help, but I assume someone else will.

We differ in opinions, backgrounds or talents. What would we possibly get from working together?

We are well matched in opinions, backgrounds or talents. What would we possibly get from working together?

I feel like too small a name.

I feel like too large a name.

I wasn’t able to do this sort of thing when I was in your position.

I won’t able to do that sort of thing when I am in your position.

I feel too old.

I feel too young.

I feel threatened.

Author’s note — This document represents my opinions at the time of writing. I try to be fair and un-dogmatic. I try to make fun, not cast blame. I do not intend to offend, or accuse, only to observe. I accept completely that I have just one perspective on complex problems and value the contribution and perspective of others. These words may change, my thoughts may change, the world may change.

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