I still remember the thrill I felt after getting my very first research paper published. It was 2018, and I was pursuing my master’s degree. My friends and I, all eager to see our names in print, decided to co-author a paper. We were excited about the prospect of having our work immortalized, a testament to our efforts that would endure long after we were gone. This excitement led us to reach out to one of our lecturers, a seasoned publisher.
While the idea of leaving a legacy was compelling, for me, the most thrilling aspect was the opportunity to travel. I had never left Africa, and the promise of an all-expenses-paid trip to present our work was incredibly enticing. I learned that the university would fund my travel if I got published, and that was motivation enough for me. Thus began my journey into research.
Since then, I’ve authored numerous publications in fields such as Operations Management, Supply Chain Management, Location Strategy, and Lean Manufacturing. Unfortunately, due to COVID-19 restrictions and budget constraints, most of my presentations were virtual, which was a significant letdown. Many of my friends, who had started this journey with me, have since moved on to different careers. Yet, for me, continuing to publish was not just about career KPIs but also about a deep-seated passion for writing and research.
Nearly five years and several publications later, having earned my PhD, I began to question my motivations: Why do I do research?
This question arose because I observed that many of my publications, like those of my peers, seemed to have little tangible impact on society or industry. It wasn’t uncommon to see researchers publishing multiple articles yearly, yet societal and industrial challenges persisted. This observation led me to question the purpose of our research. Isn’t it to offer solutions to real-world problems?
A few months later, I posed this question to the lecturer who first introduced me to research. His response was enlightening. He explained that the world evolves because of research. Modern inventions, such as airplanes, can trace their origins to the incomplete works of visionaries like Leonardo da Vinci. Though Leonardo often didn’t finish his projects, his ideas laid the groundwork for future innovations. Reflecting on my lecturer’s perspective, I began to understand why we publish as academics. Even if our work isn’t immediately applied, we are contributing potential solutions to the collective pool of knowledge.
We publish to propose solutions to existing problems. Our articles are our platform to express ideas and contribute to knowledge. Whether these solutions are implemented immediately or not, we continue to publish with the hope that one day they will effect change in our communities and industries.
Having answered my initial question, I now faced new ones: What’s the next step? Why don’t we see more business partners at our conferences? Are we advertising them well enough? Are we reaching the right audience, or are we complacent with the status quo?
Conferences, much like World Cup events for athletes, are opportunities for us to showcase our work. They are occasions to justify the countless hours spent reading and writing. However, they often lack the diverse audience they deserve, with most attendees being fellow academics rather than community representatives and industry partners—the very people who could benefit most from our findings.
Don’t get me wrong—presenting to other academics is crucial for peer validation and expert feedback. But, too often, our research stops there. After publication and receiving accolades, the next step—implementation—remains unaddressed. This is where many of us falter. Now that I’ve answered why I do research, I find myself with more questions than answers. These questions will undoubtedly shape my future endeavors, as I strive to bridge the gap between academic research and real-world application.