The Secret Life of Cells, Nobel Laureate Randy Schekman on Yeast, Insulin, Open Science, and India’s Lost Potential
In the hushed corridors of Bengaluru’s finest venues, where the who’s who of Indian science and industry gather annually for the Infosys Prize ceremony, the chief guest this year was a man who has spent a lifetime peering into the invisible machinery of life. Randy Schekman, who shared the 2013 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for his work on how cells organize the transport of molecules in tiny packages called vesicles, is not just a titan of basic science; he is a passionate advocate for open inquiry, a fierce critic of the commercialization of knowledge, and now, on a deeply personal mission to conquer Parkinson’s disease.
In an interview with Habeeba Salim, Schekman wove together a narrative that connects the most fundamental biological processes to the most pressing challenges of our time—from the diabetes epidemic in India to the geopolitical turbulence threatening scientific collaboration, and from the predatory practices of elite journals to the quiet tragedy of Indian talent forced to seek shores abroad. His message to India is both a compliment and a challenge: the potential is enormous, but the environment to nurture it remains insufficient.
From Pond Scum to Stockholm: The Microscope That Started It All
Every great scientist has an origin story, and Schekman’s is as charming as it is instructive. At the age of 11, he received a toy microscope. With the curiosity that defines a true explorer, he scooped up a jar of pond scum from a local dry riverbed in Southern California and peered at a drop through the plastic lens. What he saw—a “profusion of tiny organisms swimming around”—filled him with wonder. When he tried to share this revelation with his father at the dinner table, he was met with scepticism. His father thought he had a vivid imagination.
That scepticism was the catalyst. Offended, the young Schekman resolved to buy a real microscope. He took on odd jobs—babysitting, mowing lawns, delivering newspapers—and saved $100, a significant sum in 1962. But there was a problem: his mother kept borrowing from his stash to buy groceries. One Saturday, in a fit of frustration, he rode his bicycle to the local police station and told the duty officer he wanted to run away from home because his mother was stealing his money.
The police called his father. What could have been a moment of punishment turned into a story of redemption. His father, perhaps shamed or simply understanding, took him to a local pawn shop. In the front window was a Bausch & Lomb monocular microscope—the dream made tangible. They bought it for $100.
That microscope became his pride and joy. It powered him through high school science fairs and into university. Later, his parents mailed it to him when he was living near Berkeley. And today, that very instrument sits on display in the Nobel Museum in Stockholm, with a caption in English and Swedish explaining how a young boy’s attempt to run away from home launched a Nobel Prize-winning career. It is a powerful reminder that scientific greatness often begins with a single spark of curiosity and the adult intervention that nurtures it.
The Yeast That Heals: How Basic Biology Became a Lifeline for Diabetics
Schekman’s Nobel-winning discovery is a masterclass in the power of basic, curiosity-driven research. He chose to study yeast—the same single-celled fungus used to bake bread and brew beer—as a model organism to understand how cells export proteins. Within two years, he had isolated the genes that organize this transport pathway, mapped how they interact, and identified the proteins they encode.
The process he uncovered is fundamental to life. Our bodies are built and maintained by roughly 100,000 different protein molecules. Many of these, like insulin or the neurotransmitters that allow nerve cells to communicate, must be exported from the cell where they are made. They are carried in tiny vesicles—molecular delivery trucks—that evolved billions of years ago.
When the human genome was later sequenced, scientists made a remarkable discovery: humans have the same genes that Schekman had identified in yeast. Evolution, it turns out, is a master recycler. A system that worked 2 billion years ago was so effective that it has been conserved across virtually all forms of life.
This discovery had an immediate, world-changing application. The emerging biotech industry in San Francisco realized that yeast could be used as a living factory to produce human proteins. By introducing the human insulin gene into yeast and equipping it with the signals Schekman had identified, scientists could coax the yeast to secrete pure, human-compatible insulin into giant fermentation vats.
Today, about one-third of the world’s supply of recombinant human insulin is produced this way. For the millions of diabetics in India and around the world who rely on insulin to survive, this is not an abstract piece of biological trivia. It is a lifeline. As Schekman puts it, “That’s a very direct way basic cell biology touches everyday life.”
The War on Open Science: Why Elite Journals Are the Enemy of Progress
For all his contributions to science, Schekman is equally known for his crusade against the institutions that, in his view, corrupt it. He reserves particular ire for the so-called “elite” journals—Cell, Nature, Science—which he accuses of operating more like luxury brands than vehicles for scientific communication.
The problem, he explains, is structural. These journals fought bitterly against open access for years because they saw it as a threat to their profit margins. They rely on a system of free labour: scientists review papers without payment, and institutions pay exorbitant subscription fees to access the research they themselves produced. Now, as open access becomes mandated by funding agencies, these same journals charge authors astronomical fees—up to $12,000 per paper—to make their work freely available.
But the corruption goes beyond money. Schekman argues that the “professional editors” at these journals, many of whom have left active research, lack the judgment to evaluate complex, cutting-edge science. Under pressure to publish “shiny objects”—sensational papers that generate media buzz—they often prioritize excitement over rigor.
The most infamous consequence of this culture is the case of Andrew Wakefield, whose fraudulent paper linking childhood vaccines to autism was published in The Lancet. Even after the paper was retracted and Wakefield lost his medical license, the damage was done. He has built a second career promoting anti-vaccine views, contributing to a public health crisis that persists to this day. “That pressure can drive them to publish work that appears exciting but later turns out to be wrong,” Schekman warns. The pursuit of buzz, in other words, has real-world, sometimes deadly, consequences.
India’s Tragedy: Talent Forced to Migrate
When asked about India’s place in the global scientific landscape, Schekman is both complimentary and critical. “India has enormous human potential,” he affirms. But then comes the sting: “The tragedy is that much of that potential is realised only when people move abroad.”
This is a truth that India’s scientific establishment has grappled with for decades. The country produces some of the world’s brightest minds, but the infrastructure, funding, and intellectual environment necessary to support top-tier research remain insufficient. Too often, an ambitious young scientist must choose between staying in India and pursuing a world-class career. The latter almost always requires a visa to Europe or the United States.
Schekman is cautious about prescribing solutions—”I’m cautious about telling politicians what to do; they have many competing problems”—but his message is clear. Countries like India need to invest more in the basic infrastructure of scientific research. They need to create environments where their best minds can flourish at home. This is not just a matter of national pride; it is an economic and strategic imperative. In an era where geopolitical turbulence is increasingly disrupting scientific collaboration and funding, self-reliance in research is a form of national security.
“Talent—people shouldn’t feel they must move to Western nations,” he says. It is a simple sentence, but it encapsulates the aspiration of every developing nation striving to build a knowledge economy.
A Personal Mission: The Fight Against Parkinson’s
Schekman’s latest mission is deeply personal. His wife died of Parkinson’s disease, a progressive neurological disorder that affects millions worldwide. He has now been asked to lead a new initiative to bring investigators together to study the basic science of Parkinson’s.
This effort is supported by the Sergey Brin Family Foundation. Sergey Brin, the co-founder of Google, carries a mutation in one of the genes linked to familial Parkinson’s. He is not yet ill, but he is at risk. His mother shares the mutation. With characteristic Silicon Valley ambition, Brin has invested over a billion dollars in Parkinson’s research, betting that science can outrun his genetic fate.
For Schekman, this work is a continuation of the same philosophy that guided his yeast research decades ago. To defeat a disease, you must first understand its fundamental biology. You must go back to the cell, to the genes, to the vesicles. The same approach that unlocked the secrets of insulin production may now unlock the secrets of a devastating brain disorder. It is a testament to the enduring power of basic science—and a reminder that the most profound discoveries often begin with the most personal motivations.
Conclusion: The Chain of Discovery
Randy Schekman’s life and work form a chain of discovery that stretches from a pawn shop microscope in 1962 to a billion-dollar foundation fighting Parkinson’s today. Along the way, he has illuminated the fundamental processes that keep us alive, helped create an industry that saves millions of diabetics, and waged a principled war against the commercialization of knowledge.
For India, his message is both a diagnosis and a prescription. The talent is here. The potential is undeniable. But potential alone is not enough. It must be nurtured with investment, infrastructure, and an environment that values curiosity over conformity. Until then, the tragedy of Indian science will continue: its brightest stars will shine brightest far from home.
Q&A: Unpacking Randy Schekman’s Insights
Q1: Schekman’s discovery about vesicle transport in yeast led to the production of human insulin. How does basic research in a fungus translate into a medical breakthrough for humans?
A: This is the essence of why basic, curiosity-driven science is so vital. Schekman wasn’t trying to cure diabetes when he started studying yeast. He was trying to understand a fundamental biological question: how do cells export proteins? He discovered a set of genes and a transport mechanism in yeast that was evolutionarily ancient. When the human genome was later sequenced, scientists found the exact same genes and mechanisms operating in human cells. Because the system was conserved over 2 billion years of evolution, a discovery in yeast directly illuminated how human cells work. The biotech industry then used this knowledge to engineer yeast to produce human proteins, like insulin, that are normally exported from cells. The path from fundamental discovery to medical application is rarely straight, but it is almost always powered by research that had no immediate practical goal.
Q2: Why is Schekman so critical of journals like Nature and Science? Aren’t they just publishing the best science?
A: Schekman’s critique is that these journals are not just publishing the best science; they are curating a brand. Their business model relies on scarcity and hype. They reject many excellent papers not because the science is flawed, but because it isn’t “sexy” enough to generate headlines. This creates a perverse incentive for scientists to pursue flashy, groundbreaking results at the expense of rigorous, incremental, and sometimes negative findings. The pressure to publish in these journals can lead to sloppy science or, in the worst cases, outright fraud. Furthermore, their closed-access model locks publicly funded research behind expensive paywalls, slowing the progress of science. He argues that the judgement of science should be based on its quality and rigor, not on the brand name of the journal it appears in.
Q3: What does Schekman mean when he says India’s scientific potential is a “tragedy”?
A: The “tragedy” is one of unrealized potential. India produces a vast number of highly intelligent, motivated young people with an aptitude for science. However, the ecosystem required to support them at the highest level—world-class laboratories, stable long-term funding, mentorship from active researchers, and an intellectual culture that encourages risk-taking—is not developed enough to absorb them. As a result, the most ambitious and talented Indian scientists often feel compelled to move to the US or Europe to pursue their careers. India invests in educating these individuals but then fails to provide the conditions for them to contribute their talents at home. This is a loss not just for the individuals, but for the nation’s scientific and economic competitiveness.
Q4: How can India begin to reverse this “brain drain” and retain its scientific talent?
A: Schekman’s prescription is to invest in the “basic infrastructure of scientific research.” This means more than just building new buildings. It means creating a stable and predictable funding environment where young investigators can pursue long-term, high-risk projects without fear of their grants being cut. It means fostering a culture of mentorship where senior scientists actively nurture the next generation. It means reducing bureaucratic hurdles that make it difficult to order equipment, hire staff, or collaborate internationally. It also means creating competitive salaries and career pathways that make staying in India an attractive alternative to moving abroad. It requires a sustained, multi-decade commitment from both government and private institutions.
Q5: What is the significance of Sergey Brin’s foundation funding Parkinson’s research, and how does it connect to Schekman’s own story?
A: It highlights the powerful role that personal motivation can play in driving scientific progress. Brin has a genetic mutation that puts him at high risk for Parkinson’s. He is using his immense wealth to fund research that might prevent him from getting the disease his mother may face. For Schekman, the motivation is also personal: his wife died of Parkinson’s. This convergence of personal stakes and scientific expertise creates a powerful engine for discovery. It also underscores Schekman’s lifelong philosophy: to solve a problem, you must first understand its fundamental biology. Whether it’s yeast secretion or a neurodegenerative disease, the path to a cure begins with basic science.
