Sir

The dance around the golden Nobel medallion began more than a century ago and is still going strong. Raymond Damadian's public dispute (see “Physician launches public protest over medical Nobel” Nature 425, 648; 200310.1038/425648b) should make us ask whether science is best served by a culture obsessed with rankings and winning prizes. The history of the Nobel Prize makes it clear that the medallion is etched with human frailties.

Winning a Nobel Prize is never an automatic process, a reward that comes for having attained a magical level of achievement. Although international in scope, the prize is a Swedish prerogative. Historical study shows that Swedish committee members' own understanding of science affects their recommendations. Their judgements, predilections and interests necessarily enter into their deliberations. Academy physicists had no intention of recognizing Einstein's theories of relativity “even if the whole world demands it”. A simple change in the composition of the committee can decide the fate of a candidate.

But even when those involved rise above pettiness and partiality, the task of selecting winners remains exceedingly difficult. Committee members have confessed that often several candidates can be found who equally deserve a prize. Unambiguous, impartial criteria for selecting among several deserving candidates are not at hand. There are no grounds for assuming that the laureates constitute a unique population of the very best in science.

The prizes reward these few individuals when, in reality, achievement arises through a broader spectrum of accomplishment by many talented scientists. Let us not forget that some important branches of science are not addressed by Nobel's testament. Some of the greatest intellectual triumphs of the past century have not been celebrated in Stockholm.

Why then do people venerate the Nobel Prizes? There is no simple answer. The cult of the prize began from the very start; media fascination whipped up speculation and interest. Leaders of national scientific communities willingly climbed on the bandwagon, and over time the number of parties with a stake in maintaining the cult of the prize has grown.

Damadian's campaign to have a share in the prize for his work on developing magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) is a product of a scientific culture based on competition for personal and institutional aggrandizement. Whatever Alfred Nobel might have meant when he set up prizes for those whose work conferred “the greatest benefit on mankind”, he did not have in mind the promotion of narrow professional interests, nor institutional and national boosterism.

Should racing to discovery define the soul of science? Its heritage is far richer than the quest for prizes might suggest.