The Inequality in global science careers

This may sound harsh, but it’s not surprising: two equally talented, hardworking, and passionate researchers can end up with completely different scientific careers simply because of the country they were born in. The reasons behind this inequality range from access to resources to visa barriers. These are not personal biases – they are the result of deep, global structural factors embedded in how science works.

Unequal access to resources

A young researcher in Kazakhstan often tries to conduct world-class studies with very limited tools.

One of the clearest sources of inequality is access to scientific resources. Researchers in developed countries grow up surrounded by rich libraries, fast internet, advanced labs, and full subscriptions to academic journals. Meanwhile, a young scientist in Kazakhstan frequently struggles to access even basic literature and data. Not all universities can afford expensive subscriptions to international databases; many students and researchers either have to look for “alternative paths” or pay 30–50 dollars for a single article. How many articles can someone realistically buy on a student stipend?

A striking example is Kazakh programmer Alexandra Elbakyan. In 2011, unable to access necessary papers for her research, she created Sci-Hub to quickly and freely obtain scientific publications. This “pirate” project was born out of necessity – when hundreds of required articles cost a fortune, people break the rules to access knowledge.

Although the situation has improved slowly – more Kazakh universities are forming partnerships that provide access to international libraries – the gap remains huge. Many young researchers are discouraged by limited funding and outdated labs. Modern laboratory equipment is scarce, and even ordering basic chemicals or materials can take months due to shipping delays and customs procedures. Many reagents have strict storage requirements and short shelf lives, so by the time they arrive, they may already be unusable. In fields like chemistry, biology, and medicine, this can halt research entirely.

Even buying a simple computer is heavily bureaucratized. While the paperwork drags on, the researcher must switch to other tasks – teaching, reports, audits, even checks from public authorities. And sometimes certain chemicals cannot be imported at all due to regulations on controlled substances. Valuable time is lost, and foreign colleagues publish similar results first.

When research drags on, chances of publishing in reputable journals shrink. Scientists end up choosing lower-tier journals simply to meet deadlines. In short, limited access to equipment and reagents directly harms the competitiveness of Kazakh science: ideas become outdated, novelty disappears, and publications go unnoticed. A talented Kazakh PhD student therefore has far fewer opportunities than a peer in Oxford.

Institutional prestige opens doors

Even when a Kazakhstani researcher manages to gather data and produce quality results, their ideas might still go unnoticed internationally. The reason is simple: the prestige of the institution associated with the author.

The same study is treated very differently depending on the “logo on the cover.” Findings coming from Harvard or the University of Tokyo are far more likely to be read, cited, and invited to conferences. But discoveries from a little-known university in Almaty may remain unread, regardless of merit.

Kazakhstan does have respected universities, but in global rankings they sit quite low. For example, Al-Farabi KazNU is placed around 1201–1500 in the Times Higher Education ranking. This automatically affects perception: foreign colleagues may underestimate a study solely because of the institution’s reputation.

For a young PhD from Astana, joining prestigious collaborations or international consortia is much harder. Invitations often follow big institutional names rather than individual talent. As a result, a scientist’s opportunities expand or shrink largely based not on skill but on where they studied or work.

Research confirms this. Authors from elite institutions publish more and receive more citations. Meanwhile, researchers from peripheral universities – including many in Kazakhstan – struggle to break into top journals regardless of the quality of their work. This creates a self-reinforcing cycle: graduates of top universities get grants and positions in strong labs, strengthening their advantage; those from less prestigious institutions must work twice as hard just to be noticed.

Visas and borders limit visibility

Even brilliant discoveries matter little if a researcher cannot present them to the world. Visa requirements and geography strongly affect whether a Kazakh scientist can attend international conferences or internships.

Here inequality is striking. Holders of “strong” passports (EU, U.S., Japan) enjoy visa-free travel to dozens of countries. But a Kazakh citizen must navigate bureaucracy, pay fees, attend embassy interviews, and sometimes face rejection. The Kazakh passport ranks around 65–67 globally, giving visa-free access to 77 countries. In contrast, a Singaporean passport allows entry into almost 195 countries.

This means that attending a scientific event in Europe or the U.S. requires months of preparation, personal spending, and uncertainty. Meanwhile, a German or British researcher simply buys a ticket and flies – no paperwork, no stress.

Kazakhstan is trying to reduce these barriers by funding international internships and academic exchanges. For example, the “Bolashak Scientific Internships” program fully covers tuition, flights, accommodation, and medical insurance for international training. After returning, scholars are required to work at least three years in a local university or research institute. For many, this is the only way to access modern labs and global expertise.

Still, such programs only reach a small fraction of researchers. Visa restrictions remain a major invisible barrier: some scientists can freely choose where to work and speak, while others are limited by the politics of borders – not by their ideas.

Science funding is uneven across the world

Research runs on money – and scientific funding is extremely uneven globally.

Despite economic growth, Kazakhstan invests far less in science relative to GDP than leading countries. In 2024, Kazakhstan allocated only about 0.16% of GDP to R&D, ranking 124th in the world.

For comparison:

• ⁠ ⁠Israel – 5.56%
• ⁠ ⁠South Korea – 4.93%
• ⁠ ⁠United States – 3.46%

Even though Kazakhstan has recently increased absolute spending (to about 219.7 billion tenge in 2024), the gap remains enormous.

For a young Kazakh scientist, this means a chronic shortage of grants and fellowships. Competition is fierce, topics are often tied to government priorities, and nearly 77% of research funding comes from the state. Private and corporate funding is minimal. In wealthier countries, private foundations and industry provide substantial support, ensuring stability. In Kazakhstan, any fluctuation in the state budget immediately affects the entire research system.

A recent example: grants approved in January–February 2025 were only financed in August or even October. Yet researchers were required to submit year-end results and publish planned papers by November. This pushes scientists toward rushed publications in low-quality journals or even data fabrication to avoid penalties.

Such instability forces talented researchers either to leave science for better-paid jobs or to emigrate. Many promising young researchers go abroad to access decent labs and real chances for grants. This widens the gap further: wealthy systems attract the best minds from underfunded countries, strengthening their dominance.

Researchers from the periphery face bias

Even after conducting good research and securing funding, there is another hurdle – peer review and community perception.

A structural bias exists against scientists from less developed countries or unknown institutions. Journal editors and reviewers are human; they also subconsciously trust famous universities more. A manuscript from MIT often receives more initial trust than an identical one from a “Kazakhstan University.” Sometimes a paper is rejected without even being sent for review – with a polite note encouraging the author to try another journal.

Studies confirm this effect. Editors are more likely to accept papers from prestigious institutions, even when the quality is comparable. This creates a vicious cycle: researchers from peripheral institutions struggle to publish in top journals, resulting in fewer citations and slower career progression – which in turn slows the development of their institutions and entire countries.

There is also clear geographical and linguistic bias. Papers with first authors from English-speaking developed countries are accepted more often and cited more frequently. In one experiment, experts evaluated identical abstracts labeled with affiliations ranging from top U.S. and German universities to universities in Ethiopia and Malawi. Identical work from poorer countries consistently received lower scores – about 25% lower in significance and recommendation.

This is unconscious bias: many researchers associate “rich countries = high-quality science” and “developing countries = low quality, plagiarism, or data fraud.” Kazakhstan is no exception – the global community often treats unfamiliar institutions from Central Asia with suspicion.

The problem is not talent – it’s the system

Inequality in academic careers is a harsh reality. It arises from many factors: where the researcher was born, their access to equipment and knowledge, their passport, their country’s investment in science, and how the global scientific community perceives their work.

Kazakhstani researchers – like many in developing countries – overcome challenges every day that their peers in wealthy nations rarely even think about.

This does not mean science is closed to those born in “the wrong place.” There are successful Kazakh researchers, and breakthroughs are possible. But the system itself is unequal from the start, and recognizing this is the first step toward change.

Importantly, this is not about hostility or discrimination by individuals. Many Western colleagues do try to help; journals aim to be fair. But the rules of the game were built unequally. The global scientific community is only now beginning serious conversations about reducing these gaps – through open access, funding programs for developing countries, scholarships, and exchanges. Kazakhstan, in turn, is increasing scientific funding and expanding international cooperation.

Step by step, a fairer academic environment may emerge – one where ideas are judged by their value, not their origin. But until then, the phrase: “Academia is generous only to those born in the right country” will remain painfully relevant.