Since its election two years ago, the UK government has sent out mixed signals on science and technology. Budgets for the grant-giving research councils have been maintained, but other areas of research spending have been cut. Meanwhile, the potential of science and innovation to help pull the economy out of recession features in government rhetoric from time to time, but not as frequently or emphatically as researchers had hoped. In this context, the announcement last week that Mark Walport, director of the Wellcome Trust, will next April assume the role of chief scientific adviser to the UK government, is being welcomed with an enthusiasm that goes far beyond the platitudes that usually greet such appointments (see page 20).

Walport currently has one of the most powerful — not to mention best remunerated — positions in the world of science, responsible for the disbursement of more than £600 million (US$940 million) annually at one of the world's largest research philanthropies. His readiness to leave Wellcome's palatial London headquarters on the Euston Road for the uncertain pleasures of Whitehall strongly indicates that he has won satisfactory assurances from Prime Minister David Cameron and, perhaps, from chancellor George Osborne that they will actually listen to him. As such, the appointment itself seems to confound the widespread belief that the top echelons of Britain's Conservative–Liberal Democrat coalition government have minimal interest in science.

The chief scientific adviser's role in the UK government is a flexible one, not spelt out in legislation, and to a great extent the job is what the holder makes of it. The incumbent, population biologist John Beddington, has sought to strengthen networking between scientists and engineers inside government, and to encourage the appointment of scientific advisers in every government department. His public profile has been most strongly associated with two issues — climate change and food security — that were higher priorities for the previous, Labour government than they are for the coalition.

To a great extent, the chief scientific adviser's job is what the holder makes of it.

Walport's footprint can also be expected to reflect his own background. At Wellcome he has implemented a large and contentious shift away from small project and programme grants, and towards generous, long-term support for a few excellent researchers. He also had a key role in securing government backing for the planned Francis Crick Institute in central London (previously known as the UK Centre for Medical Research and Innovation).

These two efforts provide ample indication of what Walport can be expected to work for in government: heavier concentration of grant funding in the hands of the very best scientists and greater emphasis on 'translational' research. In both cases, Walport's perspectives seem to match those of David Willetts, the Conservative science minister.

It should be noted, of course, that the post of British chief scientific adviser — unlike its US counterpart — is a non-political appointment. Walport will take up the position even in the unlikely, but possible, event of Cameron, Osborne and Willetts being voted out of power before next April.

He will arrive in the job some six months ahead of the next comprehensive spending review, which will determine the shape of British science in the medium term. The last such review, in 2010, allowed the Medical Research Council to grow its budget with inflation, by freezing (and so cutting, in real terms) other fields of science. There will be no easy options in 2013, but Walport's appointment will in itself raise hopes that some form of ring-fencing will continue to protect the overall science budget.

On the international scene, Walport will be expected to guide the government through some painful choices over global projects, such as Europe's Extremely Large Telescope, many of which Britain endorses but may be unable to pay to participate in.

As chief scientific adviser, Walport can also take a lead on issues within science itself, such as research misconduct and open-access publishing. In both areas, the research and university-funding councils have been criticized for failing to take any sort of stance. Walport can either tell them to do so or simply do it for them.

There are, of course, serious limitations on what one man, in a single office buried away in the Department for Business, Innovation and Skills, can do to change entrenched ways of thinking inside the British government — never mind in Britain itself. Still, in taking on the post, Walport lends much-needed credibility to the view that the chief scientific adviser might, indeed, make a difference.