What HE marketers need to know about why researchers research 

Photo by Dan Dimmock on Unsplash

Is there a backlash brewing against HE’s obsession with research impact? In this feature, we talked to a cross-section of researchers old and new, to find out what drives them – and whether uni marketing is too focused on the ‘science saves the world’ narrative. 

Researchers are seen by the general public to be standing at the pinnacle of academia. The students who never stopped learning. The students whose work is so good, it becomes part of the curriculum. 

Is that how it feels for the researchers, though? Research careers can be challenging – especially in the academic sector, where long hours, precarious grants and the pressure to publish create an environment that can all-too-often become toxic.  

You can understand why talented postgraduate and doctoral students seek greater security and work/life balance in the private sector. 

Which makes the question of their motivation even more intriguing – why do researchers do research? What drives a person to devote their time and energy to exploring obscure questions?  

Testing and experimenting and analysing (often with zero progress to show for it)?  

Acquiring knowledge so specialised that the minute you start to talk about it, any sane individual either glazes over or looks for the nearest exit? 

Why do research? 

It’s an important question. And it’s a question that HE marketers (and by extension, All Things Words) need to find better answers for. Because the way that we talk about research – and the way we sell higher education and research careers – needs to directly address and answer to the motives of these ordinary individuals doing extraordinary things. 

Bill: Curiosity killed the grant 

Firstly, a confession. The idea for this feature hasn’t come out of thin air. We’ve been inspired by science copywriter and all-round top bloke Bill Hinchen, and his excellent piece, ‘Academic publishing and why we even science.’ 

Bill reckons that university comms around research might be putting too much emphasis on ‘the big-picture stuff. The grand causes. Heroic and selfless goals’. 

Why should we listen to Bill? Well, Bill’s a scientist, for one thing. He’s been writing the science for 15 years, but before that, he was learning the science, studying and researching marine biology at Cambridge and Harvard. 

Bill says: 

“Now, I’m sure there are plenty of scientists who do go into research to cure cancer or save the dolphins or whatever. It’s just that I’ve not met any of those outside the realms of medicine. The vast majority of researchers I’ve known got into science because they were driven/bothered by a simple childlike curiosity that asks, ‘how does that happen?’” 

So… why can’t unis just talk about curiosity, then? Why can’t they focus on appealing to nerdy fascination, and leave saving the world to the activists? (or even the politicians, heaven forbid.) 

As Bill goes on to explain, the complications arise because of the way science is funded. 

“Everything needs to be paid for and so everything needs to be sold. When you need more funding for your research you have to sell your science. 

“Human-centric justification is shoe-horned in to add perceived value. This leads to people trying to justify their work in terms of how humans directly benefit. Grant applications even have specific sections for this information. 

“Being forced to reframe everything in the light of how it benefits humans is exhausting. It’s boring. It’s also just plain old disingenuous.” 

Bill’s article brilliantly outlines how limiting and frustrating this human-centric framing can be – especially for marine biologists like Bill, who spent much of his time as a researcher studying sea creatures. 

Are there subject areas where all that emphasis on ‘the grand causes’ is justified, then? 

Deborah: Different subjects, different reasons 

Dr Deborah Talbot is a PhD-trained researcher in the social sciences, and a research communications specialist.  

Her academic research was undeniably rooted in a desire for societal impact. Exploring the experiences of groups facing systemic barriers, she pursued her intentions first through research, then teaching. 

“When I was an academic researcher, I wanted to give a voice to outsider experiences.  

“I didn’t come from a traditional academic or professional background. I was the first in my family (apart from a sibling) to go to uni. And then I got scholarships to continue. I didn’t want to let go of my identity.” 

Of course, it’s clear that curiosity was also a factor in Deborah’s research work, too, as she explored the causes of the phenomena she was studying – and then experimented with new contexts where she could apply her learning. 

“My PhD was an ethnography of the gentrification of nightlife in a London borough. I ended up focusing – just because this was what was happening – on racial exclusion. 

“I then took this into teaching, trying to encourage non-traditional groups to aspire to more (and spent a significant amount of time protecting them against some of the pitfalls of universities). 

Deborah subsequently left the HE sector to go into the private sector for ten years as a researcher, comms person and copywriter, before returning to HE to work in a comms role. 

“I do miss the depth of academic research and analysis…but I wouldn’t want to spend my time endlessly writing journal articles and pursuing research grants.” 

Martina: How ‘finding your why’ can depend on your ‘when’

As lab scientist turned science marketer Martina Neville points out, motivation isn’t static. Just like regular people, researchers are growing and developing too.  

“The reality of motivation is far more complex, and it largely depends on what stage of their life they’re at.  

“Let’s take students looking to study science at the undergraduate level as an example. At this stage, students are lured in by grand promises. To them, science research is a beacon of hope for humanity, promising to cure diseases, tackle climate change, and solve global problems. While these goals are aspirational and important, they don’t reflect the day-to-day reality (of research).   

“For early-career researchers (ECRs), motivation might come from the thrill of discovery or the allure of being considered an expert in a niche field.  

“For those further along, it could be the pursuit of tenure, funding, or recognition within their community. Sometimes, it’s pure stubbornness – a refusal to let years of training and struggle go to waste.” 

Like Bill, Martina is a biologist (now turned life sciences marketer). She also talks about the role curiosity played in her academic choices – and the damage she feels an over-emphasis on ‘the greater good’ can do. 

“I did research because I wanted to know more. It’s that simple. To be brutally honest, I didn’t care what impact it made on the world. I just wanted to ask questions. 

“Conversations within the academic research community are honest for the most part. They’re notoriously honest and blunt (All Things Words can attest to this!) and tend to be very open about the challenges they face. However, this honesty is tempered by the pressures of the academic system. 

 “There’s an unspoken expectation to always present your work as impactful and innovative, even if the reality is more incremental. We’re always being told, ‘Don’t forget to frame your story with the bigger picture’ – when the reality is, often the ‘bigger picture’ is light years away. This is where honesty ends up taking a back seat to survival. 

“University marketing is perhaps where honesty is most often stretched. The ‘greater good’ narrative is used as a tool to attract funding, students, and partnerships, but it can feel disconnected from the actual motivations and experiences of researchers. 

 If you look at what I was saying about what undergraduate students are attracted to, you will see that this ‘superhero’ marketing fits the bill. What’s missing from most university marketing is an accurate representation of what researchers do in their day-to-day jobs.  

“It’s a real problem – we can’t entice students in with false marketing and then wonder why they don’t engage when they realise not all is as it once seemed.  

“The real issue seems to be that universities cannot tell stories in a way that is compelling, attractive and truthful. Only one can happen at a time.” 

But what about the next generation of researchers? Are they the same kind of people, with the same kind of motivations? And does the research environment they enter still resemble the one their predecessors faced? 

Irene: Paying the bills with research

We wanted to explore these questions with an ECR. We also wanted to speak to someone from the growing numbers (26% of all UK students in 2023/24) who come from overseas to study in the UK. 

With Dr Irene Gómez Undiano, we got both. 

As a biologist (yes, another one), Irene shares the same burning nature-inspired curiosity that drives Bill and Martina. However, massive societal changes and her experiences of science and education, both here and in her native Spain, seem to have provided Irene with distinctly different perspectives and motivations. 

“Since I was a kid, I’ve always been fascinated by animals and plants. 

“It really interested me, understanding the world’s natural processes. I do think that’s the basic principle behind science, and the nature of human beings – trying to find answers to everything. 

“I didn’t have things clear when I finished my masters. Working as a biologist in Spain is hard. There aren’t many job prospects, unless you go down the biomedical route – and even then, it’s hard to get a permanent job. You’ll find yourself going from one three-month contract to another… if you’re lucky.  

“I guess my thought was ‘I need to keep studying or I will never be able to work as a biologist’.  

“I started looking at PhDs that aligned with my interests and knowledge. One of the projects that I applied for was at Lancaster University. I was accepted for another one too, at a Spanish university, but the decision to go with Lancaster meant an opportunity to study in a country that actually invests in environmental science and research (especially when compared to Spain).”

After completing her PhD in July 2024, Irene got a research job as an Entomologist for a private lab a few months later. She’s currently investigating how worms can help us improve land management. 

“Although my motivations to go into research were led by personal economic insecurity, my reasons for working in science (whether in research or anything else) were always the same: tending my responsibilities in a world I didn’t choose to be born in, but I am part of. 

“It is sometimes quite hard to find the motivation to keep up research with the current situation in the world. It feels like your work is worthless when the biggest economic powerhouses keep turning their heads away from climate change (and science in general), establishing policies that ignore basic human rights, and exploit the Earth’s resources as if they were unlimited. 

“I don’t like the “saviour scientist” concept. Being a scientist is not going to solve all the world’s problems, but your work might help one. For that to happen, though, research is something that needs to be funded constantly (and for the correct intentions) – not just for that one ‘eureka!’ moment.”

Irene also points out the lack of a wider narrative for young people around research careers. 

“There are many ways to get into research. I think these opportunities, or the possibility of them, should be talked about from school. Making application processes easier, and using less fancy literature, would probably help.  

“I also think we tend to forget about non-uni routes to research. Apprenticeships are a great way to get your foot in the door, and even progress to high-paying research jobs, without the need of a rich dad, or huge debt with the government – which is pretty scary for a 17-year-old!” 

So, what’s the takeaway for HE marketers, then? 

Many of the issues raised here extend far beyond our remit as university communication specialists. Deep-rooted problems with the way science is funded, with the way academic publishing is commercialised, and the very purpose of education itself. These aren’t things we can solve with a well-written prospectus page, or a tooled-up messaging strategy. 

There are changes on the horizon, though, along with a widespread recognition throughout the sector that these issues need to be addressed. 

Ultimately, the future of research will be shaped both by these broader changes, and by the individuals who choose to devote themselves to it – for whatever reasons. 

As HE marketers, all we can do is stay aware of these changes, and make sure we keep talking to our diverse audiences, finding out what really matters to them – and communicating as honestly and clearly as possible. 

This article was made possible by the generous assistance and insights of: 

Dr Deborah Talbot 

Deborah has worked in the private sector since 2014 as a thought leadership and research impact researcher, communications specialist and copywriter. She currently works for the Future of UK Treescapes and Minagris programmes at the Countryside & Community Research Institute, University of Gloucestershire. 

Martina Neville 

Martina Neville is a recovering lab scientist who now works in life sciences marketing. She traded experiments for strategies, but with fewer hazardous spills and no lab coat. 

Irene Gómez Undiano, PhD 

Entomologist at FERA | PhD in Biology, specialised in Lepidopteran ecology, who currently works for Fera Science Ltd. 

Bill Hinchen 

Bill is a biologist, copywriter and mediocre lifter of weights from Bude.