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Some time ago, I was having coffee with a colleague and close friend. She mentioned that she was being considered for a full professor position. Naturally, the conversation turned to salary.
“They’re offering around €85,000 [around US$99,000],” she said. “Seems reasonable.”
I was curious. “What’s that after tax?”
She paused, stirring her coffee. “I’m not sure exactly. I’d need to look it up.”
“All right, but more or less, what percentage of your salary is left after tax and social security?”
Another pause, longer this time. “I honestly have no idea. I’ve never really thought about it.”
Here’s the thing: this is someone who can design multi-year research projects, manage large research budgets and navigate complex grant applications. But her own future take-home pay? A mystery.
I’ve had many conversations just like this one over the years. This is much more common in academia than any of us wants to admit.
The vocation trap
Academia has a problem, and it’s one we’ve created ourselves. For a long time, we’ve framed what we do as a ‘calling’ rather than a career. And there’s truth in that; many of us genuinely love our work. But this framing comes with an unspoken rule. Caring too much about money means you’re not truly committed. We’ve convinced ourselves that good academics should be above such mercenary concerns.
How money, politics and technology are redefining the PhD experience
During my PhD, I remember attending seminars during which established professors would emphasize sacrifice constantly: the long hours, the weekends spent writing and the need to prioritize work above everything else. No one ever mentioned negotiating salaries or comparing job offers.
The problem is that this attitude has real consequences. Early-career researchers make life-altering decisions — accepting postdoctoral positions, choosing between countries and deciding whether to stay in academia at all — on the basis of incomplete information. When discussing salary feels uncomfortable, people don’t ask the questions they need to ask.
What we don’t know is costing us
Consider a postdoc who accepted a US position over a European one. The US salary looked substantially higher on paper. What the postdoc didn’t realize until his first pay slip arrived was that family health insurance would cost him US$800 per month. His ‘higher’ salary was suddenly not so attractive. Or think about an academic who turned down a lower-paying position in Germany to stay in the United States, not understanding that after factoring in housing costs, childcare subsidies and comprehensive health care, they would have actually come out ahead.
Those who are considering international moves without understanding the tax systems, social contributions and cost structures in each location are essentially making career decisions with their eyes closed.
Questions we should be asking
A few years into my career, I started putting together a list of straightforward questions to ask when considering salaries as a scientist. They fall into two categories: questions you need to ask yourself and questions you should ask during interviews. It might feel awkward at first, but these questions have proved effective for gathering the information that I need to make career decisions.
Questions I learnt to ask myself
What is the typical tax rate at this salary level in this country? What will health care actually cost me and my family? What is the real cost of living in this city? Not just housing, but childcare, commuting and so on. What happens to my pension contributions if I move countries in five years? How does this salary compare to other offers in terms of real purchasing power, not just numbers?
There are many resources available online to give you a quick overview of take-home pay, allowing you to compare offers. One example is the Salary After Tax tool. For more specific tax-related questions, be sure to seek advice from a certified tax accountant in the country you intend to move to (and the country you are coming from).
