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I Didn’t Expect Nostalgia to Be on My 2026 Bingo Card

  • 22 minutes ago
  • 4 min read

I’ve been working in scientific communications for over 20 years, both agency and in-house, and I still pause slightly when I say that out loud. Not because of the number itself, but because of what it represents. I’ve seen the role change a lot.


What I didn’t expect was to feel nostalgic for 2018.


Especially not now.


2026 was supposed to feel like a forward step. Instead, it already feels heavier than expected. The job market is tighter than it was even a year ago, and that’s saying something. Teams are being streamlined. In some cases, reduced to skeleton crews, particularly in medical affairs.


And at the same time, there is a constant backdrop of everything happening globally. It can make it harder than it used to be to stay focused on work that, in isolation, can feel small.


All of that sits in the background when I think about how much the role itself has changed.


From Strategy to Throughput

The change didn’t happen overnight.


COVID accelerated the move to digital, and in many ways that was a good thing. It forced innovation. It expanded reach. It challenged long-standing assumptions about how we engage scientifically.


But it also created the conditions for something else.


As digital channels scaled, so did the demand for content. And with that came a wave of optimization. Consultants, new operating models, leaner teams. Headcount reduced, sometimes significantly, on the premise that content could now be produced faster and more efficiently.


AI became part of that narrative.


Whether directly or indirectly, it introduced a new assumption into the system. Content generation could be accelerated, and fewer people would be needed to deliver more.


And that assumption has shaped how the role functions today.


The Rise of the Scientific Content Factory

What I do now often feels less like communication and more like production.


I still work with agencies. On the surface, that part has not changed. Briefs go in, content comes out. The structure looks familiar.


But something underneath has shifted.


Across the industry, more formal content factory models are emerging.


Dedicated content delivery teams, often separate from traditional scientific communications, are being set up to produce and distribute materials at scale.


In some organizations, large digital service hubs handle localisation and execution, sometimes run in partnership with major consulting firms.


Timelines are shorter. Teams feel leaner. Output expectations are higher than ever. There is an assumption now, not always explicitly stated, but clearly present, that content can be produced faster, more efficiently, and at greater scale than before.


AI is often cited as the reason. But it is not always something I directly see. I am not necessarily reviewing AI-generated drafts or interacting with it explicitly in every piece of work.


And yet, its influence is there. In the pace, in the volume, in the way the work is structured.


Even when AI is not directly visible in the workflow, its presence is felt in the expectations placed on that workflow.


The result is a system that behaves like a content engine.


Content is created centrally, reviewed, refined, and distributed. Affiliates take that content and execute locally, often handling the direct-to-customer engagement that used to sit more centrally.


In theory, this is efficient. Scalable. Consistent.


In practice, it can feel like running a production line.


And somewhere in that shift, something subtle but important has changed.

The role has moved from creating meaning to managing output.


The Identity Gap

What makes this challenging is not the technology.


I am comfortable with AI. I use multiple tools. I stay up to date. This is not about resisting change or struggling to keep up.


It is about something else.


It is about the gap between what the role used to be, and what it is now.

Because when you have spent years being valued for strategic thinking, for creativity, for your ability to shape scientific dialogue, it is hard not to feel the difference when the role becomes more operational.


More process-driven. More about delivery than direction.


You can do the job. You can do it well. But it does not always feel like the same job.


And that is a difficult thing to articulate, because on the surface, everything looks like progress.


And layered on top of that is the broader context we are all working in. Leaner teams, tighter timelines, and a more uncertain job market make the shift feel sharper. It is not just that the role has changed. It is that it has changed at a time when there is less room to question it.


This Is Not a Step Back, But It Is a Trade-Off

To be clear, this shift is not inherently negative.


The current model allows for scale. It enables global alignment. It makes better use of digital channels. It lowers barriers to execution in local markets.


There are real advantages.


But it comes with trade-offs.


Depth can be lost in the push for volume. Craft can be diluted in the pursuit of consistency. Roles that were once defined by thinking and interpretation can start to feel defined by coordination and oversight.


None of this is dramatic. It is gradual. Structural. Easy to miss if you are not looking for it.


But once you see it, it is hard to unsee.


So Where Does That Leave Us?

I do not think the answer is to go back to 2018. That world does not exist anymore, and parts of it probably should not.


But I do think it is worth asking what we want to carry forward.


What aspects of the role still matter? Where does expertise add the most value? And how do we make sure that, in a system optimized for efficiency, we do not lose the parts of the work that actually require judgment, insight, and experience?


Because if content can be generated faster, then the real question is no longer how quickly we can produce it.


It is what role human expertise plays once production is no longer the bottleneck.


And maybe that is the real challenge.


Not adapting to change, but deciding what is still worth holding onto as everything else shifts.

 
 
 
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