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Education and outreach

Education and outreach

How to rebuild Russian science

01 Jan 1999

Russia's recent economic crisis has hurt the country's scientists. Vladilen Letokhov traces the cause of the current problems and outlines what the West can do to help

Transforming the Soviet Union’s highly centralized communist regime into an open, democratic society based on free-market principles has proved to be much harder than people at first thought. Life has been painful for almost all levels of society in the former Soviet nations since the early 1990s, and the relatively small – but important – scientific community has been no exception. It has found itself poorly prepared and unable to adapt to the speed of the social transformation, with its new rules, aims and values. However, the roots of this destruction do not date back to 1985, when the policy of perestroika began, but to much earlier.

It was in 1931 at the international congress of the history of science and technology in London that the Soviet Union first presented its strategy for the development of science and technology, based on centralized planning and control. This strategy was supported, for example, by the pro-communist British scientist J D Bernal. He was impressed by the fact that the USSR had set up almost one thousand research institutes, employing tens of thousands of scientists in a co-ordinated programme designed to meet the needs of the entire Soviet society. This approach differed radically from the western attitude to science, and fundamental research in particular.

Of course, the country was forced to introduce these measures because of its policy of self-imposed international isolation and the demands of increased militarization, especially after 1945. But the Soviet programme had far more impact on science than was originally envisaged. A vast number of research institutes were set up at the Academy of Sciences and at defence-related ministries within a very short period of time after the Second World War. Many of these institutes had no scientific traditions, and no way of evaluating the quality of their research, especially as they operated under conditions of total secrecy. One joke at the time was that the research was deliberately kept secret so that nobody would find out how poor much of it was!

Too many scientists – too little talent

The Soviet Union believed that increasing the number of scientists and research institutes would enable it to outstrip western science and boost the rate of new discoveries and inventions. But the evolution of science and technology has its own “clock”, and many areas of science depend on each other for success. In other words, simply doing more research does not necessarily lead to more scientific and technological breakthroughs – if for no other reason than that there are limited numbers of creative and original scientists. It is clear that it was difficult under these conditions for Soviet science to approach – let alone match – the quality of international research in every area of science. As Andrei Sakharov felt in 1968, it would have been easier and cheaper for the Soviet Union to have followed what was already being done in the West, rather than do everything from scratch itself.

Of course, there were talented investigators who did internationally respected work under these conditions. But by no means everyone who could have succeeded in this highly bureaucratic environment managed to do so. The only people who thrived tended to be those exceptional scientists possessing both creative and administrative skills. A classic example was the brilliant physicist and inventor Pyotr Kapitza, who directed the world-famous Institute of Physical Problems in Moscow and also managed the entire Soviet liquid-oxygen industry. But innovative scientists who lacked managerial skills were often unable to shine. Even worse, science began to attract vast numbers of merely average people. This started to affect the Academy of Science so badly that by the 1960s the physicist Lev Artsimovich said it was turning the academy into nothing more than a “bureaucratic research ministry”.

Another problem was the “brain drain” of talented scientists from the universities – particularly those in the provinces – to academic and defence-related institutes, which were located, as a rule, in Moscow. This created a gap between the universities and the academic institutes, which were at the forefront of scientific research. After the Second World War, it even proved necessary to introduce special measures to overcome this phenomenon – for example by creating the Moscow Physical-Technical Institute in Dolgoprudnii. This institute was set up to satisfy the country’s demand for talented physicists, whom the universities were no longer capable of producing.

In the end, the Soviet Union was swamped with far more scientists than it needed, and with an over-abundance of them in the capital, Moscow. But despite the huge number of Soviet researchers, they made far fewer discoveries of international standing than their colleagues in the West. Soviet scientists began to judge themselves by their own standards, and everyone believed they were doing research of international quality – even when this was manifestly not the case. I knew of countless untalented researchers who could not even spell out the aims of their research, but who managed to get away with it because this inability to explain what they were doing was seen as “evidence” that they were involved in very fundamental work. After all, no-one expects quick results from basic science.

By the onset of perestroika in 1985, there were some one and a half million researchers in the Soviet Union, mostly in the applied sciences. There were, of course, good reasons for wanting to become a scientist. Most Soviet citizens lived in small state-owned flats, and a PhD gave scientists the right to an extra 10 m2 of floor space for their families – more than double the normal allocation. This partly explains why so many scientific specialties, which had little to do with science, were formed.

Russia’s problems today

The sudden cuts to research budgets that were imposed in the late 1980s – first in defence research and then in every other area of science – hit particularly hard. By the early 1990s some far-sighted researchers were suggesting that the number of scientists should be cut by two-thirds so that the rest could work more efficiently. However, this measure was considered extreme at the time, and it would have been difficult to implement quickly. In any case, it tends to be the best – rather than the worst – researchers who leave when such measures are introduced, because they know it will be easy to get new jobs. Soviet science and technology entered a phase of self-liquidation, which continues to this day.

However, a carefully controlled two-thirds reduction in the number of scientists – for example at the Academy of Sciences – would allow the salaries of those remaining to be raised threefold. Instead, the scientific workforce is shrinking in an uncontrolled and unplanned fashion as people retire or leave for other jobs. Scientific equipment is dying even faster, and soon Russians will have to buy oscilloscopes and other basic equipment from abroad – if, of course, the money can be found to buy them.

The uncontrolled decay of Russian science may not be fatal for Russia in the short term, but it is nevertheless very damaging to the country in the long term, particularly as many talented researchers leave to seek their fortunes in the West. (None of this, of course, relates to the science and technology that is needed to maintain Russia’s nuclear potential at a safe level, as this is closely monitored by international agreements.)

Bringing back Russians from abroad

While government officials admit that there is a “brain drain” of Russian scientists going abroad, they claim that it has not yet reached crisis levels. However, I am not too worried about the total number of scientists who are leaving. What concerns me more is the number of good, qualified scientists at the peak of their careers – say, between the ages of 25 and 40 – who are going abroad. Since the early 1990s possibly as many as 90% of Russian scientists in this age-range have gone. As a result, the country is in danger of being unable to pass on the scientific experience of its older scientists to younger students.

However, this brain drain from Russia is certainly good for western nations, for it provides them with highly skilled specialists without having to spend any money training and educating them. These newcomers could also include people who will eventually influence the development of western science, just as physicists like Kapitza and George Gamov did when they went to Britain earlier this century.

The only remedy is to make scientific salaries and career prospects broadly comparable with those in the West. Scientists who left Russia may then be tempted home – after all, most of them have kept their Russian citizenship. The country would gain from their experience of high-level research carried out in the West using the latest scientific equipment. Their homecoming could also help Russian research to carry on at a quantitatively smaller but qualitatively much better scale. In other words, the brain drain may actually help to preserve Russian talents in the long term.

But what about the young, the old and all those who for one reason or another (mostly personal) have no desire or possibility to work abroad? After all, there are still many active research groups in Russia, working under extremely difficult conditions. Here, of course, help from western scientists and governments can be highly effective for Russian science. It can also benefit the entire international community. We must preserve and support brilliant and original talent, wherever it appears, Russia included.

What the West can do

So how can the West help address the problems facing Russian science? First, western nations should try to integrate individual Russian scientists and research groups into bilateral and international projects. This form of co-operation is very effective. It allows ideas, experience and equipment to be exchanged, and provides Russian scientists with additional, independent financial help. This not only benefits the research but also allows Russia and western nations to learn from each other’s education systems. The programme of help developed by the philanthropist George Soros was an important example of what can be done in this respect; indeed, I believe his unique initiative deserves to be investigated by science historians.

Second, the help given to Russian scientists should be targeted at those who are doing highly original, pioneering research that is, for whatever reason, more advanced than in the West.

Third, western governments – and indeed the entire international community – would gain if they supported those Russian scientists who control high technologies and can develop advanced new military technologies. I refer here to both nuclear weapons and those non-nuclear technologies with similar destructive capabilities.

To work out the level of financial support that Russian scientists should receive, we should start by estimating how much it has cost Russia to educate those young scientists who have left the country to work in the West – rather than trying to calculate what Russia currently requires. I believe that organizations like UNESCO can play an important part in making such estimates. Of course, I do not want this period of help to last longer than necessary.

Unfortunately, the world has not yet reached the stage where all countries realize the importance of working together on global problems. But this day will inevitably come, and, when it does, we will need a new, supra-national level of responsibility and control. By helping Russia to solve its current crisis, the West would gain vital experience in forming future international programmes of benefit to the entire world.

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