Requiring many letters of recommendation at the first stage of a job application can sink jobseekers’ chances.Credit: frema/iStock via Getty
Late last year, a colleague showed me a job posting that he was interested in. The research aligned perfectly with his training, the laboratory was prestigious and the timing was right for his next career move.
But he let the application deadline pass by without submitting, when he realized he needed to supply three letters of recommendation.
A reference from his current supervisor, the most relevant person to speak about his recent work, was not something he felt able to ask for. He had already exhausted his supervisor’s goodwill on previous applications and further straining the relationship for yet another request was not viable.
The opportunity disappeared, not because he lacked the skills, but because he felt that he could not clear this procedural barrier.
His story is not unusual. It plays out constantly in labs around the world because of a hiring practice that has outlived its usefulness: requiring several letters of recommendation at the first stage of a job application.
As a physician-scientist who has worked in Japan, the United States and southeast Asia, I have watched this problem repeat itself across borders and institutions. The reference paradox, as I have come to think of it, punishes vulnerable researchers, rewards those with privileged connections and shrinks the talent pool of science.
A system built for a different era
Fifty years ago, letters of recommendation made sense. They verified that candidates were real, had completed their training and possessed the skills that they claimed. Hiring committees had few other ways to confirm these facts. If you were looking for a scientist with experience in mouse microsurgery and received an application, then a signed reference letter was one of the only ways to verify their experience.
But that world no longer exists. Today we have Google Scholar, ORCID, PubMed and databases of institutional credentials that store records of academic and professional achievements. A hiring committee can verify a candidate’s publications, citation metrics, grant history and clinical experience in minutes. The verification function of letters of reference has been entirely replaced by digital transparency.
But in many places, we’ve kept the ritual anyway. Perhaps this is because, for many search committees, a personal endorsement from a peer still offers a perceived layer of security that digital metrics alone cannot match.
Dear editors, your publication delays are damaging our careers
During my training, my professional goals didn’t always match my supervisors’ expectations. They imagined me embarking on a clinical career in my home country, whereas I was intent on exploring fellowship opportunities abroad. Asking for a recommendation letter meant exposing that divergence prematurely. For many in this position, the result is a withdrawal; individuals simply decide the application isn’t worth the risk of friction.
The invisible cost
The true damage of this requirement lies in careers that never launch and talent that we never discover.
Put yourself in the shoes of a junior researcher who has spotted an ideal position. Before you can even be considered, you must ask senior colleagues to write letters — signalling your intention to leave. If your supervisor is difficult, the relationship has soured or they even like you too much to let you go, this request becomes fraught with risk, because a lukewarm reference can quietly sink chances.
Even in healthy, supportive labs, the system creates problems. Academic job markets are brutally competitive, with researchers often applying for dozens of positions. Returning to the same supervisor to share news of rejection after rejection is psychologically exhausting and humiliating. Candidates begin to worry: “Am I becoming a burden? Do my mentors see me as someone who cannot succeed?” Even now, as an independent cancer-outcomes researcher and liver surgeon, when I see an intriguing position that requires letters of recommendation at the initial stage, I often close the browser tab. The prospect of reopening a conversation and taking a mentor’s time for a mere application is a price I am frequently unwilling to pay.
Eventually, many of us simply stop trying and remain in our current roles, sacrificing potentially greater impact elsewhere for the predictable comfort of the status quo.
