The world has plenty of ways to reward the rich and famous. A nation’s highest scientific honors should also spotlight the real scientists advancing human knowledge.
Curator’s Notes: The discourse emphasizes the need for a clearer distinction in recognizing scientific achievement versus technological innovation and commercial success. It critiques the focus on prominent figures, often entrepreneurs, at the expense of dedicated scientists who contribute significantly to advancing human knowledge through years of laborious research. The author argues that scientific honors, such as the National Medals of Science, should spotlight those whose work is foundational yet less glamorous, while ensuring that recognition criteria highlight genuine scientific contributions rather than fame or wealth. The piece advocates for a balanced acknowledgment of all contributions to science, irrespective of their visibility, fostering a fair environment for future researchers. This essay was written by Dr Michael Broadly and submitted to Digitalmehmet Content Ecosystem to create a healthy debate on this important societal matter.
Introduction and Purpose of the Essay
Imagine spending forty to fifty years in a laboratory, chasing an answer to a scientific question that might improve or even save human lives. You have endured failed experiments, grant applications that disappeared into the bureaucratic black hole, peer reviews that sent you back to the drawing board, and more late nights than you care to remember.
Your reward is perhaps another scientific publication, a modest research grant, and a polite mention in the annual university report. Meanwhile, a billionaire technology entrepreneur can attract worldwide attention simply by walking into a room. Add a prestigious medal to the occasion, and the cameras are already warming up.
Fair dinkum, something about this picture deserves a closer look. I am not suggesting that successful entrepreneurs should be denied recognition, far from it. Building innovative businesses, taking calculated risks and turning promising ideas into useful technologies can be enormously valuable. My concern is what happens when we celebrate the famous faces of innovation while the scientists whose painstaking work advances human knowledge remain largely invisible.
After decades of involvement in health research and public health, I have come to appreciate that scientific progress often doesn’t resemble the glamorous stories told at award ceremonies. The real business of science is usually slower, messier and considerably less photogenic. That is precisely why how we recognize scientific achievement matters.
If you prefer a shorter version of this essay, I wrote a story on Medium titled When Billionaires Collect Science Medals, Who Celebrates the Scientists?
The medal, the billionaires and the question nobody should be afraid to ask
The recent White House announcement of the 2026 National Medals of Science and National Medals of Technology and Innovation has prompted me to reflect on the distinction between scientific achievement, technological innovation and commercial success.
Among the recipients of the National Medal of Science were Elon Musk, Sergey Brin, Jensen Huang and Lisa Su. Michael Dell and Satya Nadella were among those recognized with National Medals of Technology and Innovation.
These are prominent figures associated with influential technology companies and major developments in computing, semiconductors, communications and other fields. Their organizations have helped bring important technologies into widespread use.
There is no need to diminish those achievements to ask a legitimate question: what exactly should America’s highest scientific honor recognize?
The National Medal of Science is intended to recognize outstanding contributions to scientific knowledge. Its purpose is therefore not identical to that of an award celebrating technological innovation or business leadership.
The distinction is important. Developing scientific knowledge, engineering a new technology, financing research, managing a team of inventors, and commercializing an invention are different activities. They can overlap, sometimes spectacularly, but they are not interchangeable.
Nor should we assume that an entrepreneur cannot be a scientist or inventor. Some technology leaders such as Mr. Huang or Mr. Musk have substantial scientific or engineering backgrounds, and an executive may make original technical contributions while also running a company.
The relevant question is not whether someone wears a lab coat or a business suit. It is what that person has actually contributed, how significant the contribution is, and how it meets the purpose of the honor being awarded.
Did the recipient personally advance scientific knowledge? Did they make an original scientific or engineering contribution? Did they enable other researchers to make advances that would otherwise have been difficult or impossible? How were these contributions evaluated?
These are reasonable questions, not accusations of misconduct. They deserve evidence-based answers. A prestigious medal is not just another trophy to add to an already crowded cabinet. It represents a nation’s judgment about what deserves to be celebrated.
When the award is for science, the scientific contribution should be central to the story.
The people behind the breakthroughs
Behind every scientific breakthrough lies a story that usually does not make the evening news. A researcher may spend years investigating a disease, only to discover the original hypothesis was wrong. There is the team that painstakingly checks its results because a misleading conclusion could send an entire field down the wrong track. An early-career scientist wonders whether the next grant will arrive before the funding runs out.
These people are not necessarily chasing fame. They are chasing answers. In health research, the distance between a promising idea and a reliable finding that improves human health can be enormous. A hypothesis must be tested. Results must be examined critically. Alternative explanations must be considered. Other researchers may need to replicate the findings. Even then, translating evidence into better clinical practice can take years.
Some researchers devote their working lives to understanding a disease, identifying risk factors or discovering why a treatment works for one group of people but fails another. Their findings may eventually help thousands of patients without making the researchers wealthy or famous.
Others work in fundamental science, mathematics, environmental research or disciplines whose practical benefits may not become apparent for decades.
Their work does not always produce a lucrative patent, a multinational company or a product with a catchy name. Yet it may provide the essential foundations on which later breakthroughs depend.
Science is rather like building a house in the Australian bush. The public admires the finished home, but few stop to thank the people who surveyed the land, tested the foundations and spent weeks getting the drainage right.
Skip those unglamorous jobs, though, and the first decent storm could reveal exactly how much they mattered.
Scientific discoveries also build on one another. Today’s celebrated invention may depend on decades of basic research by people who never met its eventual commercial champion, worked for the same company, or imagined how their findings would be used.
The person standing on the podium may deserve recognition. But the podium should not obscure the many minds whose contributions made the achievement possible.
Fame is a powerful research assistant, but it doesn’t measure scientific merit.
Let’s face it: some people have more publicity than a Bunnings sausage sizzle on a Saturday morning. Their names are recognized worldwide. Their companies have enormous communications budgets. Their announcements can dominate news cycles before the rest of us have finished our morning cuppa.
Many dedicated scientists have no such luxury. They might struggle to obtain funding for their next experiment, let alone a public relations team to explain why it matters.
Now imagine giving both individuals another prestigious award. One recipient’s name travels around the globe before the ceremony has finished. The other’s achievement might be buried in a university newsletter that even the department secretary misses.
The difference in public attention is hardly surprising. Prominent business leaders have established platforms, institutional influence, extensive networks, and media access that most researchers can only dream of.
The award itself can reinforce that visibility. A famous recipient attracts headlines, which build recognition, making the next award or speaking invitation more likely to draw attention.
Meanwhile, a researcher investigating a neglected disease might struggle to persuade anyone outside their discipline to read a carefully written paper.
This does not prove that a prominent recipient is undeserving, nor does it establish that every lesser-known researcher has been overlooked. Those claims require evidence. But it raises a serious question about the way we distribute recognition.
Being famous makes it easier to be noticed. It does not automatically make one’s contribution more scientifically important.
We should be especially careful when the institution doing the recognising carries the authority of a nation’s highest scientific honours. Otherwise, we risk confusing the visibility of an achievement with its intellectual significance.
A captain is not the whole cricket team
Here is where a little Australian cricket might help explain the problem. Imagine a cricket captain lifting the trophy after a remarkable season. The captain has provided leadership, made difficult decisions and helped create the conditions for success. Fair enough. Give the skipper a well-deserved round of applause.
But would we seriously claim that the captain personally scored every run, took every wicket and bowled every over? Not unless we’d spent too long in the sun.
A successful cricket team relies on batsmen, bowlers, fielders, coaches, analysts and support staff. Some players become household names. Others perform essential jobs without receiving anything like the same attention.
Modern science works in a similar way. Research teams rely on experimentalists, statisticians, technicians, data analysts and many other contributors. Some people develop the original idea; others refine the methods, test the results or identify errors that could otherwise undermine the conclusions.
In industry, leaders can provide the vision, resources and organisational structure that allow exceptional teams to achieve remarkable things. That is a genuine contribution. But leadership and direct scientific discovery are not automatically the same achievement.
We should be able to celebrate the captain without forgetting the team. Likewise, we should be able to recognise an entrepreneur who helps transform technology without losing sight of the researchers and engineers whose individual contributions made the transformation possible.
The point is not whether one deserves applause and the other does not. It is whether the nature of the award reflects the contribution being celebrated.
What about the scientists who cannot market themselves?
Consider a researcher who spends fifteen years investigating a disease that affects relatively few people. The work may yield no profitable product. There may be no multinational company to publicise the findings, no celebrity founder to explain the achievement on television and no marketing department to turn the discovery into a global brand.
Yet the research might establish a new understanding of disease mechanisms, reveal why an existing treatment fails or provide the foundation for a future diagnostic test.
Such work may not generate immediate commercial returns. It may not produce a recognisable brand. Nevertheless, it can contribute substantially to scientific knowledge and future medical progress.
Now consider the human cost of leaving this work under-recognised.
A young scientist spends years training, accepts modest financial rewards and competes for grants that may disappear before the research reaches its most promising stage. The researcher must defend the significance of the work to funding bodies while balancing the demands of teaching, administration and publication.
A breakthrough may be years away. Failure is always possible. Even success may not bring much public attention.
Meanwhile, a famous executive may have a global platform before the next experiment has even begun.
I would not blame the executive for being famous. Nor would I begrudge an entrepreneur the rewards of legitimate success. But I would ask whether scientific institutions are doing enough to recognise people whose contributions are important without being commercially glamorous.
Imagine that young researcher watching a ceremony celebrating scientific achievement. Perhaps the work they have devoted a decade to is still waiting for recognition. Perhaps they are wondering whether to continue in a profession where funding is uncertain and public appreciation is scarce.
They are not asking for a parade down Collins Street. They are asking for a fair chance to have their work judged on its merits.
We cannot conclude that any particular award decision has discouraged a researcher without evidence. But we should care about the message that our systems of recognition send to the next generation.
If we want talented people to devote their lives to advancing knowledge, we should make it clear that scientific excellence matters even when it does not come with a fortune, a famous surname or a corporate publicity machine.
Money can build a laboratory. It cannot substitute for scientific evidence.
Let us be fair to entrepreneurs.
Scientific research needs money, equipment, infrastructure and skilled people. Commercial investment can accelerate innovation, and a well-led organisation can bring together expertise that would otherwise remain scattered. Businesses can also develop technologies that make research faster, cheaper and more productive.
These contributions deserve appropriate recognition.
But financing a scientific project is not the same as conducting it. Managing a research organisation is not necessarily the same as making its discoveries. Commercialising an invention does not automatically establish who made the original scientific breakthrough.
A person may contribute in several of these ways at once. The point is to assess the actual contribution rather than assume that success in one area proves exceptional achievement in another.
A large bank balance is not a research methodology, and a company’s market capitalisation is not a measure of the originality of a scientific discovery.
That may sound cheeky, but the underlying principle is serious. Wealth can purchase equipment, employ talented people and support ambitious investigations. It cannot, by itself, establish whether a hypothesis is correct or whether a discovery has advanced scientific understanding.
Scientific merit must be assessed through evidence, the significance of the work and appropriate expert judgement.
This is why transparent award criteria matter. They help distinguish recognition for original discovery from recognition for engineering, research leadership, infrastructure development or commercialisation.
Each can be valuable. Each can deserve an honour. But we should not blur the distinctions merely because a famous name makes a more compelling headline.
How can we do better?
Criticism is easy. A constructive response requires practical alternatives.
First, major scientific honours should explain clearly why each recipient was selected. The public should be able to understand the person’s individual contribution and how it aligns with the award’s stated purpose.
Second, selection committees should distinguish between original scientific discovery, engineering innovation, research leadership and commercialisation. These activities can overlap, but the evidence supporting each type of achievement may be different.
Third, institutions should make a deliberate effort to identify exceptional researchers whose work is consequential but whose names are not widely known. This does not mean inventing a quota for obscurity or automatically preferring laboratory researchers over entrepreneurs. It means ensuring that the absence of fame is not a barrier to being considered.
Fourth, when a major breakthrough is celebrated, institutions and the media should explain the contributions of the teams behind it. Researchers, engineers, technicians and collaborators should be acknowledged wherever their work can be established.
Finally, we should improve the public’s understanding of how science advances. A discovery is rarely an isolated flash of genius. More often, it emerges from a long chain of observations, failed experiments, incremental improvements and the accumulated knowledge of earlier researchers.
These changes would not diminish the achievements of prominent innovators. They would make the basis of recognition clearer and help ensure that scientific honours retain their credibility.
Nor should we turn this into a contest between business and academia. Universities need industry, and industry benefits from research. Public institutions, private companies and individual scientists can all make essential contributions.
The objective is not to decide who is the better sort of person. It is to recognise different forms of achievement accurately and fairly.
A nation’s scientific values are revealed by whom it remembers
I would be delighted to see exceptional entrepreneurs recognised for genuine entrepreneurial achievements. I would equally welcome honours for engineers whose inventions transform industries and improve lives.
But when an honour is intended to recognise scientific achievement, its assessment should focus on the person’s contribution to science, not simply their fame, wealth or corporate influence.
The world already has plenty of ways to reward the rich and famous. Commercial success can bring financial security, public attention, prestigious appointments and invitations to stand on important stages. There is nothing inherently wrong with those rewards.
A scientific medal has a more particular job to do. It should help us recognise the people whose work advances human understanding, including those whose achievements are not easily packaged into a headline or a glossy corporate presentation.
Perhaps the most important test of a nation’s commitment to science is not how enthusiastically it celebrates its most famous innovators. It is whether it can also recognise the researchers whose work is difficult, unglamorous, uncertain and essential.
Think of the scientists who spend years testing an idea that eventually proves wrong. Their work may prevent others from wasting time pursuing the same dead end. Think of the researchers whose findings quietly become part of the evidence base supporting better clinical decisions. Think of the teams whose patient work lays foundations for discoveries that will not arrive until long after their careers have ended.
They may never become billionaires. They may never have a global platform. Their names may never be recognised by every man and his dog.
But their contributions can still matter enormously. We can applaud the entrepreneur who brings a transformative technology into the world without forgetting the people whose discoveries helped make it possible. We can celebrate commercial success without confusing it with scientific achievement. We can honour leadership without treating it as a substitute for evidence.
And we can do all this without begrudging anyone their success. After all, scientific progress is not a popularity contest, and a laboratory is not a talent show. The next discovery that changes the world might not come from someone whose name dominates the headlines. It might come from a quietly determined scientist in a modest laboratory, working away while the rest of us are watching somebody else collect the applause.
Wouldn’t it be a shame if we missed them? Let’s celebrate the breakthroughs, honor the people who make them possible, and ensure scientific recognition stays firmly connected to scientific contribution.
Thanks for reading my thoughts. Stay healthy and happy!
I started a new series called the World Is Fucked Up. Here are three stories that might entertain and educate you:
In a World F@cked Up, Here’s What Medical Gaslighting Taught Me About Public Health
The World Is F@cked Up: The AI Race Finally and Unsurprisingly Has Entered Its Industrial Espionage Era
If you are interested in sex, I have started a sex education series that might educate, inspire, or even entertain you. Here are the links to some sample stories:
The 8 Habits of Sexually Satisfied Couples With Any Sexual Orientation
When Your Libido Says “Come Here” and Your Partner Says “Not Tonight”
What Most People Were Never Taught About Female and Male Orgasm
The Neurobiology of Sexual Pleasure and Meaningful Human Connection.
Human Libido: What Most People Were Never Taught About Sexual Desire
Neurocognitive and Affective Differences Between Erotic and Pornographic Stimuli in the Brain [Warning: This one is scholarly!]
What Science Reveals About Anal Pleasure and Orgasm for Both Women and Men [Free access via my community blogs]
Cheers, Mike!
About Me
I’m a retired healthcare scientist in my very late 70s. I have several grandkids who keep me going and inspire me to write on this platform. I am also the chief editor of the Health and Science publication on Medium.com. As a giveback activity, I volunteered as an editor and content curator for Illumination publications, supporting many new writers. I will be happy to read, publish, and promote your stories. You may connect with me on LinkedIn, Twitter, and Facebook, where I share stories I read. You may subscribe to my account to get my stories in your inbox when I post. You can also find my distilled content on Substack: Health Science Research by Dr Mike Broadly.
Here is my latest curated collection: Mike’s Favorite Stories on ILLUMINATION Publications — #277
More stories in my reading list:
List: Reading list | Curated by Dr Michael Broadly, DHSc | Medium
My Favorite Articles Which I Published & Read · 7112 stories on Mediummedium.com
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