We need to stop romanticising the old-school technician

I became a technician because I wanted to. During my undergraduate projects, I realised quite early what technicians brought to research.

It was not simply the ability to operate equipment or keep laboratories running, it was judgement.

It was knowing what would work, what would not, and often why something had failed before anyone else had worked it out. I often say that I grew up in materials laboratories, because that is where I learned my profession. Materials have a habit of exposing the gap between theory and reality: equipment fails, processes behave unexpectedly and experiments rarely unfold exactly as planned. Good technicians learn to operate within that uncertainty, turning ideas into things that actually work.

It was only later, after moving into technical leadership, that I began asking a more difficult question: if technicians are so important to research, why has the profession remained undervalued for so long?

Initially, I believed the answer was largely institutional. Universities have traditionally rewarded publications, grants and academic progression, while much of the expertise enabling those achievements has remained hidden behind them. There is considerable truth in that argument, but technical leadership and wider sector conversations taught me that it was not the whole story.

Some of the problem stems from the way technicians have historically been treated, while some also lies in how the profession itself responds to change. That is an uncomfortable distinction, but one we need to confront.

Experience is valuable, stagnation is not

There is a tendency within higher education to romanticise the old-school technician: the person who has spent decades in the same laboratory, who can diagnose a fault from the sound of a machine and who has become indispensable because they have “seen it all before.”

That practical knowledge deserves respect. But respect for experience should not become nostalgia for a model of technical work that no longer meets the needs of modern research.

The problem is not experience. The best experienced technicians I have worked with have been innovative, curious, and generous with their knowledge. The problem arises when experience becomes concentrated in individuals rather than converted into institutional capability.

Too many laboratories depend on knowledge that exists almost entirely in one person’s head, leaving organisations vulnerable when that person retires or moves on. Knowledge silos are not simply a technician problem, they are an organisational failure. Universities need to create the time, structures and incentives for mentoring, documentation, succession planning and knowledge transfer. Equally, technical professionals must recognise that sharing expertise does not diminish their value. It multiplies it. The goal should never be to make individuals indispensable, it should be to make expertise sustainable.

Recognition comes with responsibility

For years, technicians have rightly argued for greater visibility, clearer career pathways and proper recognition of their contribution.

Universities still have significant work to do in all of those areas.

National initiatives such as the TALENT programme and the development of the UK Institute for Technical Skills and Strategy demonstrate that the sector has begun to recognise the scale and importance of the challenge. But recognition alone cannot transform a profession. Professional status is not simply something granted by an institution, it is also something demonstrated continuously through expertise, adaptability, judgement, and development.

If we want technical expertise to be recognised as professional expertise, then continuing to learn must be part of what the profession expects of itself. That means developing leadership, communication and strategic thinking alongside technical skills, and understanding the wider research environment rather than only the equipment or facilities for which we are responsible. It means being confident enough to challenge an academic when something will not work and sufficiently open-minded to recognise when someone else has a better idea.

Above all, it means being willing to ask a difficult question: is the service we provide today the service our institution will need tomorrow? That matters far more than whether something has always been done in a particular way.

Build capability, not dependency

The same challenge applies to technical leadership.

Historically, much of technical management has understandably focused on maintaining services, managing resources, and ensuring facilities operate effectively. Those responsibilities remain essential, but they are no longer sufficient. In an environment shaped by financial pressure, rapid technological change, and intense competition for research funding, technical leaders must also think about capability, succession, and institutional resilience.

A modern technical leader must ask not only whether a service is functioning today, but whether their institution will have the skills and technical capacity it needs five or ten years from now.

That means developing people rather than protecting existing structures, creating succession plans rather than dependencies, and treating professional development as an investment in capability. Some of the most effective technicians I have worked with were not necessarily those with the longest service, they were people who had been given opportunities to learn new skills, lead projects, make decisions and understand the wider research environment.

Their confidence grew, their contribution expanded and the capability of the whole team improved with them.

Research support to research partnership

I have never been comfortable with the idea that technicians simply “support” research, because the language itself implies a hierarchy that increasingly fails to reflect how modern research actually works.

The best technical professionals do far more than wait for an academic to arrive with instructions. They help determine what is possible. They develop methods, solve problems, challenge assumptions, build infrastructure, interpret data, teach, innovate and sometimes recognise that a research question needs to be approached differently before an experiment has even begun.

Some of the most valuable technical contributions happen long before a project officially starts. Specialist technical expertise can identify weaknesses in laboratory designs, equipment decisions or experimental approaches before those mistakes become expensive. That is not merely supporting research; it is enabling research and protecting institutional investment. Universities should therefore stop asking only, “How much does our technical service cost?” and start asking, “What does our technical capability allow us to do?”

Technical capability influences research quality, infrastructure utilisation, student experience, external collaboration and institutional competitiveness. It is not simply another cost line. It is part of the strategic infrastructure of a university.

That change in language must also be accompanied by a change in relationships. Rather than asking, “What do you need me to do,” the more productive question is, “What are we trying to achieve, and what can we do together?”

If universities expect technicians to operate as research partners, they must involve them early enough to influence decisions. If they expect technical leaders to build strategic capability, they must provide meaningful leadership pathways. If they value technical knowledge, they must recognise it in career structures, progression and institutional decision-making. Responsibility runs in both directions.

The profession has a choice

The technical profession has spent years asking others to recognise its value, with considerable justification. Universities must recognise technical capability as a strategic asset and create credible pathways for technical professionals to develop and progress. But the profession must also decide what it wants to become.

Technical leaders need to build future capability rather than merely maintain existing services. Experienced technicians need to pass on knowledge rather than allow expertise to disappear with them. And technicians at every career stage need to reject the idea that being good at the job is the same as developing a career. It is not. Professionalism requires curiosity, development and a willingness to adapt.

We should absolutely respect the generation that built the profession. Their contribution was enormous. But we should not confuse respect with nostalgia. The greatest respect we can show for what previous generations created is to ensure that the profession does not stop there.

I grew up in materials laboratories. They taught me that having an idea is only the beginning. The real skill is turning that idea into something that works. I think that is exactly what the technical profession needs to do next.