Bifurcations in Scientific Careers

Life is a chaotic nonlinear dynamical system, so is of course the scientific life as well. Due to external perturbations the trajectory of any scientific career goes through several unstable points and may bifurcate to unexpected directions. I discuss a few critical points based on my own experience as a space scientist throughout my professional career. While my examples are certainly quite typical, the trajectories after the bifurcations are always individual. The advice I wish to give to a young scientist: Watch your opportunities and be well‐prepared.

in Kourou was a tragedy for many. Personally, I did not have too much at stake, but as a researcher in magnetospheric physics I was, of course, eagerly waiting for new data to work with. After the failure, I promised to myself not to attend any launches ever thereafter, and I kept the promise even during those 16 years when I was a Finnish delegate in ESA's Science Program Committee and was invited to almost all launches of ESA's scientific spacecraft.
Another failure later in the same year, which had a bigger personal impact on me, was the loss of the Russian Mars 96 spacecraft. While the launch itself was perfect, the upper stage to bring the spacecraft to the escape trajectory failed to ignite and the spacecraft ended, instead of Mars, somewhere in the Andes. I was a co-investigator of a particle instrument and had high expectations to continue our work on the interaction of the solar wind with the atmosphere of the planet, which we had started a few years earlier with Phobos-2 observations. Furthermore, our research group had made significant contributions to the probe planned to descent to the planet's surface.
Risk of failures and misfortunes belongs to ambitious scientific endeavors. To understand the role of failures and to learn how to deal with them highly recommendable reading is Stuart Firestein's book "Failure: Why Science is so Successful" (Firestein, 2015; see also Lockwood, 2022). While the loss of Mars 96 hit us hard, we were lucky to have several other projects on our agenda. A diverse portfolio was challenging to manage but it gave us important resilience, and we could rapidly redirect our efforts to new enterprises.

Personal View to Early Career Bifurcations
The most decisive bifurcation in my scientific life took place when I was a beginning doctoral student in theoretical physics in Helsinki. While having a wide background both in mathematics and physics, I was quite uncertain in what field I wanted to specialize. I was fascinated of ball lightnings and aurora borealis. Consequently, I found plasma physics much more attractive than quantum theory, the latter of which was, of course, a mandatory part in the theoretical physics curriculum with several courses to complete. So, I decided to direct my studies to non-quantum phenomena letting ℏ → 0 and selected space plasma physics. I also studied general relativity. It was the most challenging course I ever attended, but knowledge of which I later found most useful when popularizing space science and responding to questions of laymen and journalists.
The critical point that determined my future career was a complete surprise. In the autumn 1980 I was told by my mentor Risto Pellinen that Uppsala Ionospheric Observatory was looking for a research assistant to work in their plasma wave instrument project for the first Swedish scientific satellite Viking with the goal of investigating auroras and physical phenomena above the polar ionosphere. Without too much thinking I decided to grasp the opportunity and sent my application to Uppsala. Couple of weeks later I was in an interview, and 2 days after my return to Helsinki the director of the observatory Rolf Boström called me and asked if I could start already in January 1981. Yes, I could. I was extremely lucky, but with my good general physics background I was also well-prepared. To be well-prepared is necessary to be able to take advantage of serendipitous opportunities.
While my personal failure rate of satellite launches that I have witnessed in situ is 100%, not too many launches fail. In fact, almost all succeed. So was also the case with Viking, although following the countdown at the Swedish Space Corporation in Solna was nervous, indeed. The launcher to carry the satellite to its orbit, Ariane 1, was not fully reliable. Two of its recent launches had failed and I will always remember the grim face of the French President François Mitterand when he was witnessing one of these at Kourou. However, late in the evening on 22 of February 1986 the rocket lifted successfully and carried Viking together with a French remote sensing satellite to the sky. My career bifurcated to the expected trajectory. A failure at this point would have led to a very different track. I would most likely have continued in space plasma physics but without many important lessons during the subsequent months. They, in turn, made me better-prepared for upcoming critical points.
Viking turned out to be a perfect vocational school. We were able to participate in a small satellite project from almost the beginning through instrument design and testing to the launch, operations, and scientific harvesting. A rare opportunity until the recent boom of cubesats. Viking was, however, much more than a cubesat. It carried a comprehensive suite of field and particle instruments and two UV cameras to monitor the auroral oval.
During the more than 6 years I stayed in Uppsala I got my PhD degree and learned a lot. The next critical point was approaching after Viking. I already had a permanent researcher position in Uppsala and could have stayed there and continued with their instrument participation in the next Swedish satellite Freja and in ESA's Cluster.
Safe and almost risk-free. But I had other attractive options. Viking had brought excellent international contacts and I seriously considered possibilities to join some of the prominent research groups in the United States for the next few years. Meanwhile, interesting development, I would say a space boom, had begun in my native country. The first satellite instrument projects had started in Helsinki, Turku and Oulu, and there was shortage of people with practical experience in space projects. Thus, I was at a critical point of (at least) three different trajectories: Play it safe and stay in Sweden, try my wings in some well-established research environment elsewhere, or join emerging space activities in a new and less-experienced environment.
The choice was not easy at all, but I took the risk and joined the rapidly evolving space research activities at the Finnish Meteorological Institute in Helsinki in 1987. That led to a participation in several space missions, both successful and failed, and to an increasing number of administrative posts and committee duties both in Finland and within ESA. Ten years later the University of Helsinki and the Finnish Meteorological Institute jointly established a new space physics professorship at the University of Helsinki. In that position I started building up a comprehensive space physics curriculum and initiated a research group, which now has grown to the largest and the most active and comprehensive Solar-Terrestrial physics research environment in the country. It is impossible to say if the bifurcation in 1987 led me to the best possible trajectory, but what does the best possible mean in this context. Looking backwards my career turned out to be both challenging and very rewarding. I had again been lucky, but also very well-prepared after my years in Sweden.

Difficult Bifurcations
The scientific community needs not only bright scientists but also skilled administrators and devoted teachers. Many early-career scientists are idealistic and want to focus on their pet research activity. They may see some value in teaching and supervision but try to avoid anything resembling administration or committee work. Others see scientific leadership as their real calling already early in their careers. And, of course, there are people who want to focus on teaching and supervision of students at different levels from undergraduates to post docs. All these careers are needed and equally valuable. Critical points where to choose between them are encountered at different phases of the scientific life. It is important to remember that bifurcations to any of these trajectories have different consequences. While there are examples of outstanding scientists, successful teachers, and superb administrators in the same person, it may be too much to ask this from all of us.
I have personally had to weigh several times between these options. Since I had always liked teaching, the bifurcation from a career at a research institute to a university professor suited me extremely well. I have never found combination of research and teaching as a problem. On the contrary, they support each other, even when a space physicist is teaching my favorite Maxwellian electrodynamics or classical mechanics. However, accepting committee work and administrative duties was more difficult also for me. The critical points were not as clear, and being a person who cannot say no, I seem to have drifted to several committees and accepted various time-consuming duties that somebody simply had to take care of.
Of course, at some point a successful scientist must begin to administer at least her or his own research projects and supervise people working in these projects. Through participation in several satellite projects, I have been able to observe both good and not-so-good examples of administration, which was very useful to prepare me for the later years in my professional career when I had to assume larger institutional responsibilities. A major bifurcation into that direction happened when a long-time director of our Department of Physics, at that time the largest department of the University of Helsinki with 30 professors and in total some 300 employees, was about to retire. Several of my colleagues came several times to my office and encouraged me to apply for the position. I had to choose between life as it was or to dedicate most of my time to the service of our community that I respected very much.
Having been a member in the steering group of the department and having managed both smaller and larger research projects, both domestic and international, I had to conclude that I was sufficiently well-prepared to accept the challenge. Unfortunately, only a year and a half later a very unpleasant critical point was waiting for us all. The new Government of Finland decided to make major cuts to the university funding and the largest university was hit worst, even proportionally. The budget of my department was reduced form 1 year to the next by one million euros, which corresponded to more than 10 full-time equivalent person years.
But even in a situation like this the system may bifurcate to different trajectories. In some corners of the university people started just complaining and protesting, which led to a very poisonous atmosphere. After the first shock, we physicists remembered that we have been trained to solve problems throughout our careers. First small and easy textbook-level exercises, then increasingly challenging problems, and finally problems to which no solutions are yet known to exist. Thus, we started looking for solutions that would not hurt too much our research and teaching activities. Our excellent research staff, furthermore, successfully intensified their efforts to attract more external funding. The academic year 2015-2016 was very painful and despite our best efforts we had to terminate a few contracts. However, we survived much better than those who continued complaining. At the end our team spirit also improved because we had faced the external challenge together and everybody had done what they could.

How to Approach the Retirement
Even if a young reader of this story may find it something approaching in a far too remote future, every scientific career comes to its end, which certainly is another critical point. At this point several different desserts are available. The menu may be different depending on the culture in different countries and at different research organizations. Some of us will continue coming to the former working place almost daily and participate in the scientific activities or supervision of new generations. Some will maintain their extra-curricular positions in various scientific societies, organizations and working groups. Some may have advisory or leadership roles in private spin-off companies, others will dedicate their time to their grandchildren, and some will move to a better climate and concentrate on improving their handicap in golf. But whatever trajectory you will choose, it is again of utmost importance to be prepared as well as possible. At this point it means that one realistically considers in advance the various options ahead.
After the years as a department head, I understood that I would make the best service to science by leaving my position to the next generation and assume a role of a Professor Emeritus. In our university it means that one has almost all privileges of a professor but no obligations. The economic compensation is, of course, smaller, but for most of us it is irrelevant. To guarantee that I would not degenerate too fast, I took a challenge to write a new monograph on the physics of radiation belts. Having already earlier produced a few textbooks, partly for local use in Helsinki and a monograph on physics of space storms, I was clever enough to ask my younger colleague Emilia Kilpua to join the effort. The project was great fun and required a substantial amount of reading new articles, because the book was written during the period when fresh publications flooded from observations of the Van Allen Probes. After more than 3 years the book was ready, and both of us had learned a lot. We decided not to become rich and made a contract with Springer Nature to publish the book with an Open Access license (Koskinen & Kilpua, 2022).

Advice to a Young Space Scientist
So, what is the perspective I have been trying to convey to the younger generation?
I have myself wandered quite randomly from a young theory-minded physicist through practical instrument projects and numerous committees to become a teacher and administrator. Many critical points have led to irreversible bifurcations, and the outcome of alternative tracks will remain forever unknown. What I have enjoyed most has been teaching and working with students and young colleagues. I value my textbooks and monographs much higher than the fair number of scientific publications and the citations they have earned. The best method to learn something is to teach it to the students and write a textbook based on the lecture notes. But it is perhaps best to wait until you have gained enough papers and citations to survive in the present publish or perish climate. I do not want to suggest that you, a young space physicist, should follow my lead. As I said above, we all must make our own mistakes.
In my childhood Walt Disney cartoons were very popular in Finland. I want to lift three characters from these cartoons to illustrate my conclusions. You need luck like Gladstone Gander, perhaps not quite as much as he has but, say, the normal amount that we all have. In order to be able to take advantage of lucky opportunities you also need to be well-trained like Ludwig Von Drake. You do not need diplomas from all possible fields like he has, but in space physics it is invaluable to have wide and deep knowledge of physics and related fields. You cannot know what type of theoretical, experimental or computational skills you will need, say, 30 years from now.