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What can we do to stop women leaving science? Use evolutionary biology to explain the problem for a start

THREE scientists meet in the cafe of a British university to discuss a candidate they are about to put through a PhD viva. So far, so normal. What is extraordinary is that all three are women. The UK odds of three randomly selected mid-career scientists being women are currently 1 in 91, as opposed to a 1-in-2 chance for male scientists of equivalent standing. Women are not only a rare commodity in science, their representation also declines sharply as they climb the career ladder (see diagram).

We are hardly the first to highlight the depressing statistics. But what is really shocking is the lack of systematic research into why. Theories range from the assertion that girls are less likely to choose science at school to women being less likely to prioritise career over personal life, to glass ceilings preventing them being promoted.

A little digging reveals the vacuity of at least one of these theories. At UK schools, for example, there is no dire gender chasm in the overall numbers doing science. Over science, engineering and technology, 49 per cent of 16-year-olds taking GCSE exams are girls. At A levels, at age 18, that percentage drops only slightly, to 42 per cent.

The problem really kicks in after graduation, and the drop-off is pretty dramatic. In biology, for example, women make up 60 per cent of undergraduates but only 30 per cent of those appointed to lecturing jobs. And there is no levelling off after this first 鈥渃ull鈥�: only 12 per cent of biology professors are women, and just 9 per cent in science overall.

The paradox is that a science career is an excellent choice for women, who generally excel in communication, multitasking and creative thinking, and whose personal commitments can be accommodated by the flexible working environment and considerable autonomy that scientists enjoy.

So why does science lose so many women? Our instinct as biologists is to analyse this in terms of costs and benefits. Animal strategies evolve through natural selection to give the greatest fitness pay-off, by constantly evaluating the environment. For example, a cheetah weighs up the benefits of hunting a large buffalo against any costs incurred through resulting injury. Our hope is that by identifying the costs and benefits facing women in science, we can expose the factors that drive them to leave.

The demands on women in early and middle careers are similar in science to fields such as law, finance or diplomacy, so we also hope our analysis may hold true generally.

Let鈥檚 start with the costs. Competitive job markets make it difficult to balance personal and professional interests. In science, the early postdoc years demand high flexibility, hopping between short-term contracts to benefit from the international and intellectual experiences and acquire the skills needed to secure those much sought-after permanent jobs. To escape this cycle, ambitious young scientists must put career before everything and focus on publishing papers and winning research grants. The magnitude of the toll on personal life is strongly influenced by gender.

The first gender stumbling block is that men and women differ starkly in reproductive terms. As a woman, delaying parenthood in your thirties can mean risking giving it up forever. So many female scientists reproduce during the early postdoc years.

As a mother on a short-term contract in a competitive environment, juggling with nursery fees and exhaustion while trying to remain productive, having family on hand to help is invaluable. So, unsurprisingly, women scientists are more philopatric 鈥� the ecological term for remaining in or returning to the place of your birth 鈥� than their male counterparts.

How does this affect women鈥檚 career trajectory? Basically, international postdoc posts are more valued than home-based ones, and where developing a global research network is key to career development.

The second major challenge is cultural. Even in our progressive world, women still make most of the domestic compromises, as it appears to be financially more judicious and culturally more acceptable to promote a male partner鈥檚 career over a woman鈥檚. As a result, there is huge disparity between men and women in the career costs of parenthood.

This is not peculiar to scientists, and partly explains the gender pay imbalance. But in science, career breaks can have more severe consequences: full-timers find keeping on top of literature and technical advances a challenge so even a short career break can set a woman back and make her less competitive.

Career breaks are not exclusive to parents. Many couples face a difficult decision if one partner is offered a career-boosting job abroad. The norm is for the female to follow her male partner, which may shed light on why divorce rates are higher among women scientists than men since men are less likely to follow women, and why many successful women remain single. It might also explain why 80 per cent of the 64 successful 鈥淢others in Science鈥� recently showcased by the Royal Society have partners who are also academics 鈥� and who therefore understand the problems first hand. Success may be strongly influenced by having a sympathetic, adaptable partner.

As for the benefits, the biggest is gender-neutral. Being a scientist means doing the most amazing job in the world: we are passionate about our experiments or trekking off to discover new organisms. There are a few female-specific benefits. A female scientist who sticks at her career long enough may stand out more than a male 鈥� and she may benefit from the female-biased fellowships, prizes and awards.

So what can be done? The real challenge is to equalise the costs and benefits for both sexes. Fighting our biology is futile, of course, but we can reset social norms by making it socially acceptable for men to compromise as well as women. Governments could encourage universities to equalise the career costs of parenthood. For example, career breaks could be factored into job applications, with a section where candidates can explain their break and the impact they think it has had on their career. Career breaks could also be factored into how scientists are assessed: for example, the UK Research Excellence Framework might take them into their reckoning. And universities should improve prospects for families and partners of new recruits drawn from abroad by making it easier for them to accompany the post-holder to their newly won role.

Crucially, we need to focus on the plight of female postdocs looking for a tenured position. This is a major barrier for both sexes, but for many it coincides with the timing of having a family. Women should not be forced into compromises: like men, they have the right both to a personal life and a career.

鈥淟ike men, women have the right to both a personal life and a career鈥�

Finally, and as highlighted by the recent European Commission鈥檚 Genset initiative, we need to alert women early to the pitfalls ahead. This requires high-visibility female mentors willing to share experiences and push publicly for the kind of measures we have outlined. Increasing the number and visibility of mentors takes positive discrimination.

Who knows 鈥� by 2031 two young male scientists might write an article bemoaning the under-representation of men in science!