Beyond labels: redefining what it means to be a scientist a quarter-way through the 21st century

Abstract

Labels make me cringe. They reduce a complex, ever-changing reality to a simplistic binary, suggesting you are either “in” or “out” of a group. They represent a limiting perspective on a reality that is ever external. A few years ago, I shared my thoughts in a Functional Ecology blog post on the ways labels are used to define our identities (Klemet-N'Guessan 2020). Four years and a PhD later, I find myself even more detached from labels and titles that, at best, describe a role that we choose to play. But in a world obsessed with categorization, especially within Western science, I will play along—if only to challenge the game.

Born into a multicultural family, I grew up between the banks of the Garonne in Toulouse, France, the shores of the Atlantic Ocean in Abidjan, Côte d'Ivoire, and those of the Mediterranean Sea in Tunis, Tunisia. My last two years of high school were spent between Kenya and the United States. And it is in the blending of these cultures that my identity as both a scientist and a multidimensional human being began to take shape.

Three pivotal experiences sparked my scientific awakening. The first came at eight years old, watching the cartoon Dexter's Laboratory, where a young boy performed wild and colorful experiments in his basement. Inspired, I tried my hand at concocting potions in what I affectionately called my “Tunisian basement”—even though we do not actually have basements in Tunisia. At ten, I watched my first documentary about climate change. Enraged by the damage the “adults” at the time had caused, I vowed to dedicate my career to saving our blue planet. That was when I wrote my first “thesis”—though in retrospect, it was more of a manifesto (Fig. 1). Five years later, I experienced my first taste of research during an internship at the Institut Pasteur in Tunis. That was when I knew I wanted to pursue a PhD and fully immerse myself in the world of science.

While nurturing my scientific ambitions, other facets of my identity were also taking shape. I developed passions for drama, music, baking, and a variety of sports. Influences like Nelson Mandela and Martin Luther King, symbols of peace, reconciliation, and resilience, forged my worldview. My Baoulé (i.e., ethnic group in Côte d'Ivoire) heritage, particularly the story of Queen Abla Pokou, who sacrificed her only child in the raging Comoé River to lead her people to safety, inspired me deeply. This strong, compassionate woman leader became a beacon for me as a woman and as a scientist.

Foundational texts like Mes étoiles noires (My Black Stars) by Lilian Thuram (2010) and Les Identités meurtrières (Murderous Identities) by Amin Maalouf (1998) guided me on a journey of self-discovery, teaching me that anyone, regardless of background, can excel in any field. My curiosity about the scientific achievements of great civilizations, from Ancient Egypt to the Abbasid Caliphate during the Islamic Golden Age, deepened. Figures like Marie Curie, after whom my primary school was named, and Laurent Aké Assi, a self-taught botanist who documented West African plants, became my intellectual heroes. These historic encounters taught me that innovative scientific thinking knows no borders—a belief that carried me across the Atlantic to continue my scientific pursuits in North America.

Building a career in North America demanded a cultural shift. Coming from a French system that values modesty and institutional hierarchy, I had to adapt to the North American culture of self-promotion (Geman and Geman 2016) and egalitarianism. But my global upbringing had already instilled in me a desire to do science in varied contexts. During my undergraduate studies, I had the chance to carry out field and lab work in places as diverse as Barbados, Trinidad, Côte d'Ivoire, and Peru. I explored tropical ecology in both marine and forested ecosystems, learning how to navigate the scientific terrain across different cultural, linguistic, economic, and political landscapes, as well as knowledge systems.

It was clear to me that ecology, like humanity itself, is as diverse as the people who study it. I recognized the importance of ensuring that all voices in the scientific community are valued and heard. This conviction led me to become involved in initiatives aimed at enhancing equity, diversity, and inclusion within academic institutions and beyond. My interests expanded beyond just “doing” science to questioning “who” does the science and “how” it is done. Where is knowledge generated, who generates it, who has access to it, and what types of knowledge do we value? I became passionate about open science, science education, and science policy. It became evident that engaging people requires more than just presenting facts—it requires touching their emotions and speaking through media that resonate with them.

I came to understand that being a scientist is not about titles or specific knowledge; it is an attitude—a mindset grounded in our shared humanity. And this human connection is something that even the most advanced artificial intelligence will struggle to replicate.

Our shared humanity is the bedrock of science, not an afterthought. By rooting the scientific enterprise in this understanding, we can build a truly global community that advances knowledge for the benefit of all. Embracing change is vital—clinging to rigid norms and beliefs can stifle progress and creativity (Scheffer et al. 2017). We stand at a crucial juncture, a moment of reckoning, where we must move beyond the legacies of imperialism, colonialism, oppression, and dogma. To do so, we must engage our full humanity, recognizing our interconnectedness and the value of diverse perspectives and experiences in building a more equitable and inclusive future for science and society.

So, who is a scientist?

First, a scientist is multidimensional. Fully engaging with the scientific enterprise means embracing a multidimensional perspective, one that fosters creativity and innovation. This involves acknowledging and celebrating the intersection and juxtaposition of various identities, languages, cultures, and approaches. Every scientist has a unique personal story, shaped by their individual experiences and the environment in which they live. By recognizing the richness of diversity and transforming limiting beliefs, scientists can offer unique insights and solutions to complex problems (e.g., Ebenezer et al. 2022; Obiero et al. 2023). This diversity enriches not only the research process but also ensures that the outcomes are more inclusive and representative of different communities. Embracing multidimensionality leads to a more holistic understanding of the world and a comprehensive approach to addressing global challenges.

Second, a scientist is political. Science is inherently political, and scientists cannot afford to remain neutral—a position that, in itself, may perpetuate systems that resist societal changes (Green 2021). Scientists are not isolated from society but are active participants in shaping it. This involvement can take many forms, from the values scientists uphold within their practice to their roles in science communication and advocacy for evidence-based policies (Fig. 2). Scientists have a responsibility to engage in discussions about the ethical implications of their work and to influence policy decisions on both local and global scales. Internationally, scientists can engage in science diplomacy to bridge the gap between scientific knowledge and international affairs. By leveraging science to serve the public good, scientists can foster dialog and cooperation across nations, address transnational issues, and promote global peace and development.

Finally, a scientist is communal. Science thrives on community. Scientists must cultivate connections grounded in shared human values, as collaboration and solidarity are essential for scientific advancement. Building strong communities allows for the exchange of ideas, resources, and support, which is crucial for overcoming the isolation that often accompanies scientific work. By fostering environments of mutual respect and empathy, scientists can create spaces where everyone feels valued and empowered to contribute. These connections enrich the scientific endeavor and deepen relationships both among scientists and between scientists and the rest of society. These outcomes reinforce the idea that science is a collective effort aimed at understanding our universe and improving the condition of all living beings.

Truly, anyone can be a scientist, and this label should never be used to exclude those who may not fit traditional molds. As Nigerian Afrobeats singer Fela Kuti once sang, “Water No Get Enemy”—a reminder that we all depend on this precious resource. Water is a universal yet unevenly distributed necessity, often contested across the globe. In his song, Kuti uses water as a metaphor for life and unity, encouraging us to transcend divisive ideologies and recognize our interdependence. For it is only through the help of more than a village that we can ensure water keeps flowing, communities keep thriving, and the “Circle of Life” keeps turning.