Leadership in Science: Reflections by Dr. John Ioannidis
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Leadership is a concept that has evolved over time. In the past, a leader was often the warrior at the front line—the best fighter, the most powerful, the bravest, and sometimes the first to die because of excessive risk. Later, leadership was embodied in kings. Over time, these kings transformed from warrior figures into bureaucrats—remote and inapproachable, surrounded by ministers and officials. Today, leaders are often insulated by layers of administrators and sub-leadership structures.
Leadership now extends across many domains: research, education, medicine, health care, public health, and policy. Those of us in academia often attempt to do too much, and I frequently realize I do many things not particularly well. I am constantly pressed to ask: What do I want to do, and what do I want to inspire others to do?
My first response is enthusiasm. What excites me? What excites those around me? What do they want to do with their lives and their time? Many of our activities as professors might seem eccentric to an outsider—waking after midnight with an idea, rushing to the lab, working endlessly with numbers and equations. But enthusiasm makes these actions worthwhile. It convinces us that this is the best investment of our time and effort, and the best contribution we can make to others.
Knowing Next to Nothing
What I state openly, even on my website, is that I know next to nothing. When asked who my role model was, I said: “Role model? What is that?” I encourage people to pursue what excites them, not to imitate others.
Still, I admire many people, both living and dead. If I had to choose one role model, it would be Socrates. He wrote nothing himself. His disciple Plato published dialogues in which Socrates was the central figure, but Socrates himself had no time to write. In this regard, I failed my role model: I have published over a thousand papers, adding to the flood of literature.
Socrates also said: “The only thing I know is that I know nothing.” My version is: “I know next to nothing.” I like to be reminded of that. I am not yet good enough to say, “I know nothing.” Perhaps, if I improve, I will be able to admit that Socrates was completely correct.
Science does make progress. We discover things that change the world, health, and the quality of life. So I would not say we know absolutely nothing. But as individuals, and as leaders, we must constantly remind ourselves that we know very little, and that we must continue to learn—not only out of curiosity but to help others.
Curiosity and Fun
Leadership must also include curiosity and fun. I cannot live without fun. Every day I need to do things that I enjoy.
Fun does not mean perfection. A scientist is, above all, someone who makes mistakes. If you are a good scientist, you make many mistakes. Ideally, you recognize them, correct them, and improve over time. Perfection, however, is never within reach.
I enjoy starting things I can test myself: seeing how they work—or how they fail. I dread the day when I no longer feel the urge to test a dataset, check a hypothesis, or collect information myself. That may not be a conventional model of leadership. It may even be a poor one. But it is the way I lead.
Failure as a Path to Success
In my experience, failure is far more common than success. Talking with Nobel laureates, I find many share this view. Failure is frequent, but it is what makes life and work interesting.
Sometimes the door needs to close. I often plan my life like a five-year program: I will do this, then that, then move on to the next step. But plans are never fully accomplished. Deviations occur, and those deviations often turn out to be the best thing that happens.
Early in my career I worked in mathematics, medicine, epidemiology, and even in laboratories handling dangerous viruses. The common denominator was error. Mistakes are everywhere—measurement error, laboratory error, field study error, bias.
Even in mathematics I once built a model predicting that people with advanced HIV would live 800 years. In reality, the correct number was 0.8 years. A single misplaced sign in my equations caused the error. That mistake was obvious. Many others are not. The lesson remains: preventing and correcting errors must be central to research. That realization became the foundation of my work in meta-research.
Collaboration and Convergence
Collaboration offers enormous opportunities. I see two main kinds.
The first is within a field. Instead of many small, fragmented, underpowered studies, researchers join forces. They share data, agree on standards, replicate results, and produce evidence that is rigorous and reliable.
The second is across fields. This is harder but more fascinating. Teams from different disciplines—sometimes speaking entirely different “languages”—sit at the same table. Astrophysicists, geneticists, and epidemiologists may work together. It feels like translating between languages. But when it works, it produces disruptive and transformative science.
Both types of collaboration demand persistence, openness, and enthusiasm. They require humility: alone we know next to nothing, but together we can learn more.
A Cosmopolitan Life
I belong to different cultural spheres—American, European, Greek—and this has been both good and difficult. There is a Greek word, nostalgia, which combines nostos (the journey home) and algos (pain). It is the pain of longing to return home. I often feel that longing, though I am not sure where “home” is. I have lived in many places. I feel at home in many, and foreign in many.
Another Greek word, cosmopolitan, combines cosmos (the world, a jewel of beauty) and polites (citizen). To be cosmopolitan is to be a citizen of the world. I believe we are all citizens of the world.
Being in Korea has been a joy. My hosts have shared majestic places and traditions with me, reminding me how little I know, and how much more there is to learn.
Acknowledgments
At the GEEF for All 2025 Special Seminar, held at Yonsei University in Seoul, South Korea on June 4, 2025, John P.A. Ioannidis delivered a thought-provoking lecture on the meaning of leadership in research and academia. As part of the “Leadership Workshop Series” organized in collaboration with the Institute for Global Engagement & Empowerment , the seminar brought together students and faculty to reflect on how evidence, truth-seeking, and humility shape leadership in a globalized era. This paper presents a refined transcript of Dr. Ioannidis’s remarks.
Dr. Ioannidis is among the most cited scientists in the world and has been widely recognized for reshaping debates on evidence-based medicine, reproducibility, and research integrity. His landmark 2005 paper, “Why Most Published Research Findings Are False,” has been viewed over three million times and cited more than 14,000 times. He is a member of several prestigious academies and has served as President of the Association of American Physicians. At Yonsei University, he emphasized that true leadership requires enthusiasm, collaboration, humility, and the courage to embrace mistakes as part of the scientific journey.