France faces a unique opportunity to modernize its science base. Its scientific community — previously suspicious of reform — is not only clearly open to change but actively demanding it. There is a bristling optimism in the air, reminiscent of the high hopes that accompanied the election of President François Mitterrand in 1981. The then science minister, Jean-Pierre Chevènement, allowed this enthusiasm to express itself by organizing a whirlwind series of colloquia, the outcome of which was a white paper laying the foundations for a rejuvenation of French science during the 1980s.

Claude Allègre, the current minister of national education, research and technology, is well placed not only to match Chevènement's achievements but to surpass them. As a prominent Earth scientist with considerable administrative and political experience, his grasp of what science is about, and his vision of what it could deliver to society, probably surpasses that of any of his predecessors. And with a superministry responsible for virtually every aspect of science and technology, he has the means to put this vision into practice.

Allègre has already moved swiftly to redress one of the fundamental problems facing French science, its ageing population of researchers. The infusion of thousands of new posts — and a promise to put young researchers at the heart of all of his policies — is a wise step that should provide handsome benefits in the long term. His goal of reducing bureaucracy is also admirable. Continuing in the same vein, Allègre has also made it clear that he wants to put high-level research back into the universities, where it can nourish entire generations of students, consistent with his broader goal of injecting the benefits of science into all corners of society.

In short, French science has at its helm a competent captain, who is charting a course that few would dispute is enlightened. Why, then, is discontent rumbling in the ranks of the scientific community, many of whom feel that the ship of reform, having raced down the boat-slip, is now idling in harbour instead of steaming out to sea (see page 8)?

Some of this impatience is unfair. French science, with its massive research organizations and technological programmes, is not an agile speedboat but a supertanker that needs time to turn. Changing direction, however, and more importantly steaming ahead, also requires having the crew on one's side. Past science ministers have often been paralysed by the fact that attempts to shake French science out of its leisurely cruise usually end in mutiny. Allègre has made it clear that he is having none of this — and deserves credit for the courageous and forthright way in which he has denounced the failings of the system and the conservative obstacles to reform.

But Allègre's repeated attacks on the system have become monotonous, and, by provoking a stubborn defensiveness in others, he risks contributing to the very conservatism he has set out to overcome. Moreover, while Captain Allègre's vision of where he wants to go may be clear, winning the support of the crew also demands explaining how exactly he intends to get there. So far, his ministry has failed to do this adequately, and researchers feel insecure as a result. Allègre must not only clarify his intentions but also involve the scientific community more openly in dialogue on how these can be achieved. Perhaps he would do well to reflect on la méthode Chevènement.