The story of scientific success is usually told as a straight line. The academic pipeline assumes that PhD will be followed by postdoctoral position(s) and then by a permanent faculty position; the reality, however, tells a different story. Recent data from the Swiss Science Council show that only about 1% of postdoctoral researchers hold a professorship in the country four years after their PhD defense [1]. While this figure does not account for those who later secured positions or moved abroad, the overall proportion remains small, underscoring that most postdoctoral researchers do not transition to academic positions. This is not a uniquely Swiss phenomenon. A decade ago, analyses already warned of a structural imbalance between the growing number of individuals with PhDs and the limited availability of permanent faculty jobs [2]. In the United States, for example, it is estimated that only around 15% of postdoctoral researchers will eventually secure tenure-track positions [2]. What has changed since those early warnings is the urgency of the issue: the mismatch between supply and demand is now sharper, and the competition more intense.

Acknowledging this reality should not be discouraging early-career researchers (ECRs) from pursuing an academic career, least of all women, who remain underrepresented in permanent faculty positions (a pattern described historically as the “leaky pipeline” [3] and more recently as the “scissor-shaped curve” [4]). Instead, it is an invitation to awareness and empowerment. By understanding how the system works, ECRs can make informed choices, set realistic expectations, and seek out the mentorship and networks that support them. What we need is a new metaphor—not a narrow pipeline but a network of careers. In this network, scientific training connects to many domains—from academia to government and policy, patent law, industry and start-ups, education and outreach, publishing, communication, and the nonprofit sector—each offering distinct ways to apply scientific curiosity and creativity. Ultimately, success lies in finding alignment between work, values, and a sustainable, fulfilling life.

It is not hard to understand why the “pipeline” idea lingers. From the beginning, students are surrounded by academics, and professors often become the most visible role models, reflecting the well-documented influence of role models on career choices [5]. As progress is made through advanced degrees and postdoctoral positions, interactions remain almost exclusively with people who stayed in the academic system. For many, the academic environment feels intellectually stimulating and rewarding, and there is little incentive to look beyond it. Understandably, mentors advise more easily from their own experience, but this creates a form of survivorship bias [6]: ECRs mostly see the careers of those who “survived” the selection process and less often those who built equally fulfilling careers outside of academia. Without deliberate efforts to show the breadth of possibilities, many ECRs internalize the message that leaving academia is a deviation, rather than simply one of many valid outcomes of rigorous scientific training.

There is a reason many of us are drawn to academia. It offers a kind of intellectual freedom that is rare elsewhere. As such, it is not surprising that the primary career aspiration of many postdoctoral researchers is a research-focused academic position [7]. But these rewards coexist with well-known challenges [8]. Most early-career positions are temporary and require mobility [9]. For many, that mobility disrupts their social network, relationships [10], family life, and the ability to plan long-term [11]. The workload can also be intense: fieldwork is dictated by seasons, experiments can run over weekends, and grant deadlines overlap with manuscript submissions [12]. And then there is the competition. Rejection (from journals, fellowships, and grants) is part of the landscape. Unsurprisingly, the combination of insecurity, workload, and rejection takes a toll, significantly impacting the mental health and well-being of ECRs [8]. In many systems, there are few permanent positions each year, and potential institutional hiring freezes or budget restrictions make opportunities even scarcer.

Acknowledging these realities does not make academia less valuable, but it helps ECRs approach it with clear eyes and with a sense of agency in how to navigate it. For those who aspire to stay, there are ways to approach the journey with greater strategy and less uncertainty (Box 1). Still, not everyone envisions an academic future. For many, the PhD itself represents a phase of intellectual growth and skill development that opens doors to a wide range of sectors [13]. Beyond disciplinary expertise, doctoral training fosters transferable skills that are highly valued across industry, policy, and the public sector (Box 1). For instance, graduates with training in evolutionary biology [13] or biosciences [14] contribute in diverse and essential roles outside academia. Inevitably, a moment comes when many ECRs pause to ask: how long do I keep going? For some, the answer is clear. Academia still feels like the most exciting path, worth navigating uncertainty and personal costs. For others, financial stability, personal circumstances, moving fatigue, or a desire for new challenges make nonacademic careers more attractive.

The decision to stay or leave is weighty because it often feels irreversible. While there are a few successful examples of nonlinear paths—PhD, a period outside academia, and then back into academia—these remain exceptions. The competition for academic positions is already intense among those who follow the linear route. In this context, delaying the decision can carry real costs. Successive postdoctoral contracts may provide short-term stability but can narrow future options. This “postdoc trap,” staying too long without independent funding or a clear trajectory, can ultimately restrict opportunities rather than expand them. An academic leadership role is also not for everyone, and that deserves to be normalized. While the intellectual freedom largely remains, the role of a principal investigator also comes with less visible responsibilities, including budgets, administration, people management, service, and constant grant-writing. I personally find that variety stimulating, but others may find greater fulfillment in more specialized or technical roles, whether within academia or beyond.

If there is one thing to take away, it is this: success should not be defined by a single trajectory. Scientific training equips us with skills and perspectives that can flourish in many settings. Shifting from the image of a pipeline to that of a network requires effort at multiple levels. Mentors can normalize diverse outcomes and actively support transition beyond academia. Institutions can broaden success metrics to reflect the reality of where PhD graduates go. And ECRs can benefit from accurate information, supportive networks, and the confidence to define success in ways that align with their own values (Box 1).

Ultimately, success is deeply individual, and the greatest risk is letting others define it for us. By embracing a network of careers and fostering a culture that celebrates curiosity, rigor, and creativity wherever they are applied, we can build a more inclusive, resilient, and sustainable scientific community: one where the true measure of success is a life and career that feel meaningful and fulfilling.