Postdocs in their thirties tire of putting life on hold

When Manuel Chevalier met Mine Altinli in Montpellier, France, both were in their late twenties. Chevalier was wrapping up his doctoral thesis on southern Africa’s past climates, whereas Altinli had just embarked on a PhD on how infections develop. Both were excited about a career in academia. “I expected to be a postdoc for five to six years after my PhD, hopping from country to country. I felt happy about that prospect,” says Chevalier.

Today, the couple are renting a flat in Hamburg, Germany, where Altinli researches mosquito-borne viruses as a postdoc at the Bernhard Nocht Institute for Tropical Medicine. Chevalier is finishing a postdoc at the University of Bonn, some 5 hours away by train, although he works remotely. Both still enjoy their science. But both are now 35, and after eight years of postdocs in three countries for Chevalier, the impermanence of their lives has begun to chafe.

If they’d had stable jobs, they would probably have bought a home by now, they say. The uncertainty grows more frustrating over time, says Altinli. “I know I’m good. I’m working hard. And still I’m not sure if it will be enough to yield a permanent job in academia.” Country-hopping no longer charms Chevalier. “We have one big move left. We won’t move any more for postdocs,” he says.

Nature’s 2023 postdoc survey

This article is the third in a short series discussing the results of Nature’s 2023 postdoc survey. The first article looked at the state of postdocs in 2023 and the reasons for a generally brighter outlook on job prospects. A second article covered how postdocs are using artificial intelligence (AI) chatbots in their everyday work. The survey, created with Shift Learning, an education-research company in London, was advertised on nature.com, in Springer Nature digital products and through e-mail campaigns. It was offered in English, Mandarin Chinese and Spanish. The survey had 3,838 self-selecting respondents from 93 countries, of whom 51% described themselves as female, 27% as a member of racial or ethnic minority and 61% as working outside their home country. The full survey data sets are available at go.nature.com/3rizweg.

Their sentiments fit a trend that shines through in Nature’s second global survey of postdoctoral researchers: postdocs in their thirties are less happy in their careers, overall, than their peers who are in their twenties (see ‘Postdoc disenchantment’). Postdocs aged 31–40 were more negative about job prospects, job security and work–life balance than were those under 30. They were also more likely to report mental-health challenges.

POSTDOC DISENCHANTMENT. Graphic compares how age impacts postdocs outlook.

Postdocs aged 31–40 surveyed by Nature are more likely to have completed their first short-term contract since their PhD, and career dissatisfaction is higher among those on their third or fourth postdoc (34%) than for those on their first (24%). Many in this age group also find that their changing priorities and personal goals at this stage in their lives place them on course for a head-on collision with a postdoc’s long hours and low pay (see ‘The strain of postdoc finances’ for a glimpse of how respondents of all ages reported their salaries, savings and benefits).

THE STRAIN OF POSTDOC FINANCES. Graphic details postdoc salaries, ability to save and childcare benefits.

“Postdoc life often coincides with life stages where there is a desire to settle more permanently and [there are] increasing family responsibilities, either involving elderly parents or young children,” says Emma Williams, an academic careers coach based in Cambridge, UK.

The struggle to be a postdoc and a parent simultaneously

Nature postdoc survey respondents in their thirties describe the uphill struggle to start a family. Comments have been lightly edited for length and clarity, and, when necessary, translated into English.

“The pay is abysmal and the only way that I can afford my kid is because my spouse has a job that actually pays what she’s worth.” — Male physicist, United States

“I technically had parental leave, but the regular renewal of my short-term contracts made me ineligible to use it for any of the three children I adopted.” — Female ecologist, United States

“The salary is very low and we don’t receive benefits such as childcare or paid vacation leave. There is no independence, even as a postdoc. Even if I get a grant, I am not allowed to decide on the budget or choose the project.” — Female biomedical scientist, Mauritius

“Being in science is a lottery. Effort won’t ever translate into success. Lucky people will get ahead.” — Male marine microbiologist and bioinformatician, Colombia

“There’s no support for mothers and I am considering leaving the workforce because I can’t afford childcare on a postdoc salary. As a woman of colour, I feel even more marginalized and isolated.” — Female health-care researcher, United States

“It’s hard to combine a postdoc with having a family. I was told off for missing meetings held outside of childcare hours and I think that I only got my current postdoc because I didn’t tell my employer about two of my three children.” — Female health-care researcher, Germany

“My current university only allows two weeks of maternity leave. And my state banned abortion within weeks of the US Supreme Court overturning Roe v. Wade. I was surprised by the resulting anxiety and how this affected my mental health.” — Female physicist, United States

Coping mechanisms

When work and life collide, something has to give. Some researchers put off having children until they are through the postdoc phase, such as Shehryar Khan, a materials-science postdoctoral fellow in his early thirties at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge. He and his wife have decided to hold off on starting a family until Khan’s fellowship ends in two years’ time. By then, he hopes to have found a position as a principal investigator (PI) back in Canada, where he did his PhD.

They both want children, Khan says, but in the current economic environment, they cannot afford for his wife to take time off work to care for a child. That puts the couple at odds with their South Asian values that dictate having children soon after marriage. “We are extremely saddened by not being able to start our family,” he says, but adds that he thinks such decisions are becoming more common among all postdocs.

In countries where paid parental leave and subsidized childcare are the norm, starting a family can be easier. Even so, becoming a parent changes the way postdocs structure and think about their work (see ‘The struggle to be a postdoc and a parent simultaneously’).

Juliette Kamp, a 33-year-old psychiatry postdoc at the Erasmus Medical Center in Rotterdam, the Netherlands, welcomed her first child, a daughter, at the end of 2022. Work used to be a big, perhaps her biggest, priority. Now her wife and daughter come first. Both Kamp and her wife — their child’s birth mother and a physician training to be a rheumatologist — were able to take paid parental leave and afford four days of childcare a week. Thanks to state subsidy, the cost comes to €1,000 (US$1,050) a month, a sum that won’t break the bank.

Still, there are challenges. They live in Leiden, and the hour-long commute to Kamp’s workplace in Rotterdam is not ideal because she has to cut her workdays short to pick up her daughter on time. But having found a coveted place at a childcare centre in Leiden trumps that. Fear of losing that childcare has also dampened Kamp’s willingness to move abroad for work, even though it could be beneficial for her career. For Kamp, the trade-off is worth it to be settled in her family life: there’s “more happiness” since her daughter arrived.

The availability of paid parental leave and subsidized childcare is still patchy, according to Nature’s survey data. Those who say their salary or benefits package includes subsidized childcare are still firmly in the minority, although the proportion has increased from 14% in 2020 to 17% this year. Paid parental leave is available to 58% of postdocs surveyed, again slightly up from 53% in 2020, but this year, a greater share of male respondents said they were not able to access it (25%) than did in 2020 (21%).

Desperately seeking stability

According to Nature’s data, 17% of postdocs aged 31–40 wish that they had known about the need to explore other career paths before setting off on their postdoc journey, compared with 12% of postdocs aged under 30.

Chevalier says he was warned during his PhD that the academic job market would be tough. He’s about to embark on another postdoc, which thankfully won’t require him to move, and Altinli is on the lookout for a permanent job. She would prefer academia but isn’t ruling out an industry post. They have agreed that where they settle will be determined by which of them gets a permanent job first.

Both Heřmánková and Alvial speak of possibly leaving academia in favour of stability. Van Goethem is also not sure what the future holds. Being a postdoc can feel really thankless, he says. If you work extra hours, that’s just seen as par for the course, he says. “If you publish a paper, that is your job. If you train someone in your free time, that’s just being a good postdoc. It is extremely hard to stand out.” Postdoc positions are not for the faint of heart, he concludes. “When you see your contemporaries doing regular jobs that didn’t require much studying, and they’re earning more and seeming happier, you can imagine that the enthusiasm for this career path dwindles very fast.”

Nature 622, 881-883 (2023)

Shared from Nature Careers – for the full article visit – doi: https://doi.org/10.1038/d41586-023-03296-9