The early years of a scientific career can be unforgiving.
For junior investigators, starting a lab is a high-pressure moment: Securing that first National Institutes of Health grant, publishing meaningful work, and proving they belong. It’s a period marked by uncertainty and, often, anxiety about whether it will all come together. I’ve seen that play out time and again. There are very few young faculty who don’t go through it.
That’s when mentorship grounded in personal relationships and consistent support matters most. A conversation at the right moment, a bit of perspective from someone who has been through it, or simply reassurance that what they’re experiencing is normal—those small interventions can help early-career scientists stay the course.
Rethinking the “solo investigator” model
We also need to be honest about the system young investigators are entering.
For decades, academic medicine has rewarded the image of the independent scientist: the “solo artist” who builds their own program, publishes under their own name, and secures their own funding. That model is still deeply embedded in how we evaluate success.
But it no longer reflects how science is actually done.
When you talk to trainees and junior faculty, the message is consistent: they want to collaborate. They want to work across disciplines, to share ideas, and to be part of teams that move science forward together.
Our incentives haven’t fully caught up. We still emphasize individual achievement like first- and last-author papers and individual grants, even as the most meaningful advances increasingly come from collaborative work. If we want the next generation to succeed, we need to recognize and reward that shift.
Culture and mentorship go hand in hand
Culture shapes whether early-career scientists flourish or struggle.
For decades, academic medicine has rewarded the image of the independent scientist: the ‘solo artist’ who builds their own program, publishes under their own name, and secures their own funding. That model is still deeply embedded in how we evaluate success. But it no longer reflects how science is actually done.
I’ve experienced environments where labs operated in silos, with limited interaction even between neighboring groups. That kind of isolation stifles creativity. Many of the most important insights don’t happen during formal talks but in the conversations that follow.
For young investigators, that kind of ecosystem creates space to think, take risks, and develop independence.
There’s also a lesson here for those of us in leadership roles. It’s easy to fall back on our own experience, to assume the system that shaped us should remain unchanged. But that can lock in outdated ways of working.
Instead, we should be listening more closely to early-career scientists.
Progress in cancer research depends on how we support people at the beginning. If we take their feedback seriously, align incentives with how science is actually done, and build cultures that support collaboration, we will strengthen the scientific field.
City of Hope is one of the largest and most advanced cancer research and treatment organizations in the U.S. To learn more, visit: www.cityofhope.org.
City of Hope’s Irell & Manella Graduate School of Biological Sciences prepares future leaders in biomedical research through Ph.D. and related programs that emphasize collaboration across basic, translational and clinical science.
