In the later part of my PhD, I started to ask myself: why do I research.
For me, research is like a game. The research problem itself is like a complex but solvable maze. First, I slowly explore the maze by following prior works. Obstacles are everywhere, but it doesn’t matter. One day, all the accumulated observations suddenly come together, forming a new idea. With this idea, I feel like the map of the maze is at my hand, the previously blurry problem begins to show a clear structure. The moment this idea comes to mind, it feels like breaking through the forefront of human wisdom with my own strength. This breakthrough may seem small (and indeed it is, being just a specific idea for a specific problem), but for me, this breakthrough is so thrilling.
At first, I thought everyone viewed research this way (I’ve heard more than once that research is about satisfying intellectual curiosity). However, after talking to many researchers, I found that many people have a different view: research is a way to gain influence. While people read papers, they also sense the author’s attitude toward research and the effort put into it, thus changing their view of the author. This influence can be converted into other things (like money). I can still remember Ranverr at Microsoft Research mentioned that instead of betting on the project itself, they preferred to bet on people. After all, no one can know the future direction, but only specific people can create the future. The influence built by research is an important part of the human factor.
However, this perspective implies that research is more of an approach to pursue something, a technique to fulfill certain job. It is not for the sake of becoming a scientist. This made me ask myself: if I really became an influential researcher, what would I want to do next?
At this moment, the research training I underwent during my PhD couldn’t help me. Science can tell us what is logical but can’t tell us what is worth pursuing.
Facing this question, we are all on our own.
In the latter part of my PhD, I felt I had improved in academic writing. Of course, a large part of it was because my practicing, but the fundamental reason was a subtle change in my mindset: I no longer saw questions as enemies.
When I first started my PhD, I feel like questions are my enemies. This doesn’t surprise anyone I guess. After all, many questions in our daily life are not only questioning the fact itself but contains certain attack on people as well. For example, when someone can’t borrow something, they might say, “You won’t even lend this small thing?” to mock the other person’s stinginess; or when a boss sees that a subordinate hasn’t produced results for a long time and asks, “Are you not feeling well lately?” It seems like concern for health, but it implies, “Anyone normal would have produced more results by now,” which questions the person’s ability and work attitude.
Such barbed questions are not easy to answer. I think there are two reasons. First, in life, answering questions means facing not only the question itself but also the mindset behind the question. Returning to the above examples, when answering “You won’t even lend this small thing?” one must address not only “Will you lend this thing?” but also dissolve the attack of “How can you be so stingy?”. When a boss asks, “Are you not feeling well lately?”, one must address not only the health question but also alleviate the boss’s doubt, “You can’t even handle this, are you incompetent?”. Second, when others provoke an attack, they are seeking victory. Even if we are right, our rebuttal often won’t make them think we’re right but will instead provoke their desire to defeat us, turning into verbal and emotional violence.
Ultimately, I found that not answering such questions is the most convenient. Since most disputes don’t solve problems, don’t argue. Not contending is the best way to avoid contention.
However, in scientific research, questions play a different role. They are no longer weapons for attacking others but tools for approaching the world.
In research, questions have two attributes. First, they help us think about the world. Whenever the model in our minds doesn’t match the world’s operation, questions arise. Answering these questions helps us get closer to the world’s workings. Second, questions help us see our differences from others. When someone asks questions we haven’t thought of, it indicates that a point we find natural may cause others to have doubts or hold different opinions. Trying to answer such questions helps us understand others more deeply.
The core of academic writing is to change others’ views of the world. I think building and answering questions is the bridge connecting others and the world. Questions allow us to re-examine the pros and cons of our work (and also makes my mood go up and down).
I think this is why scientific researchers need the sincerity and courage to answer all questions. Admitting our shortcomings allows us to improve. Always thinking we’re great makes us stale.
We all seek light in the dark night.