P2P No. 24 — The Scientist of Peter Medawar
Science is a job like carpentry or accounting. We show up. We do the work.
This is true even if we look at science as a fulfilling pursuit. As for any profession, we should strive to incorporate the required traits. What are a good scientist's character traits? Nobel Prize-winner immunologist Peter Medawar gives his perspective in his book, The Strange Case of the Spotted Mice and Other Classic Essays on Science:
A sanguine temperament that expects to be able to solve a problem; power of application and that kind of fortitude that keeps them erect in the face of much that might otherwise cast them down; and above all, persistence, a refusal bordering upon obstinacy to give up and admit defeat.
Let us dissect what Peter Medawar's triumvirate means.
Sanguine temperament
What is the chance to ask a question from Nature to which the answer can be found? More particularly: we are the ones who can find that answer.
The belief (hope?) that we are the ones who can crack open the shell of Nature's mystery is improbable. The situation seems even more intimidating if we consider the plethora of options, not to mention that there is no such thing as verification, only failed attempts of falsification.
Probably the only way to remain sane and maintain our composure is not to question our chance of success. The nuance is that sanguinity should only follow vetting the hypothesis and exposing it to scrupulous feedback.
That is, optimism to find the answer is a virtue only if you are asking the right question.
If the state of the art has not proven your hypothesis wrong, worthless, or wicked. But then you go all in.
Fortitude
Knowing that the untrodden path leads to your destination is a strange feeling. Language might not even do justice to putting it into words. You do not know why you are sure you will succeed; you simply do.
There is an ancient saying often repeated by the Stoics that Fortune favors the brave, and doing science requires some boldness. Boldness might be questioning an age-old wisdom or asking the seemingly silliest question.
And courage will be needed on the way. Not just to protect against the blows coming from the outside, especially from the notorious reviewer two, but also to triumph over our inner critic: we will make mistakes, write proofs and feel embarrassed that we messed up again. We will run experiments that test the wrong hypothesis. Honest self-reflection will reveal that we were looking for a haven for our egos to avoid getting a bruise.
Courage is required to admit that we have screwed up. To own our mistakes. To see the point in any criticism. Being afraid of negative feedback is the first step of failing to learn.
And then, we need the courage to overcome our fallibility and learn from the feedback. To realize that our ego does not need protection.
Persistence
Proofs get stuck, and experiments break down. Nonetheless, we go on. Not always and everywhere, but almost always and almost everywhere.
The caveat of persistence is the madness-bordering belief of pursuing a pointless aim.
That is, persistence only makes sense after a careful consideration of the pursuit: you are better in the long run if, instead of working on a lot of ideas, you separate the wheat from the chaff. There will be unanticipated turns, so hedging the risks balances exploration and exploitation. Though failure is not good per se, failing fast can save a lot of time and can prompt us to reflect on what could we have done better.