Professor, you’ve been working at WUT for nearly five years after a successful transfer from Gdańsk University of Technology. Despite the move, your work ethic remains unchanged – colleagues say you’re never idle.

[Laughs] There might be some truth to that. I genuinely thrive when things are bustling, and I train my students to embrace that pace. My move to Warsaw University of Technology (WUT) was indeed successful—both universities belong to the IDUB programme (Initiative for Excellence—Research University), where the research component is exceptionally strong.

It’s no accident you became the Dean’s Representative for Industry Cooperation—a corporation made a fortune from your internationally patented invention. You clearly know how to engage with companies, though it seems this skill was forged "in the trenches," at significant personal cost…

Absolutely. One global biotech player (QIAGEN, ~6,000 employees) sells solutions developed by my former team at Gdańsk University of Technology—including one utterly unrivalled product that, euphemistically put, "generates massive profits." The company’s flagship product originated from a collaborative project funded by the Polish Agency for Enterprise Development. Back then, funding rules were structured so creators held zero financial stake in the profits. All we can do is watch the product thrive and take "moral satisfaction" from it [laughs]. But regulations are evolving—and crucially, so is researchers’ awareness. Today, we’re far better equipped to protect our interests.

Ah, interests. The academic world still leans heavily on arguments about the "mission-driven" nature of our work, often disapproving of efforts to secure financial rights to research outcomes.

As I noted, this is shifting. Our work remains mission-driven—we want society to benefit. That’s non-negotiable, especially with public funding. But "securing our interests" becomes relevant when—to paint a picture—a commercial firm positions itself between researchers and society, profiting for years (or decades) from intellectual property born at our universities.

When business partners join project consortia, they arrive with legal teams that dissect agreements until profits are maximized for their employer. What about universities?

We increasingly bring our own lawyers too… maybe just one, but fiercely dedicated [laughs]. Universities now have specialized units to balance negotiation power. At WUT, it’s the WUT Innovations Centre partnering with the WUT Legal Office. The key is meticulously defining background IP—pre-existing intellectual property brought into the project. Once documented, firms can’t later claim rights to it. Then we negotiate ownership of foreground IP (new IP developed during the project). Options range from one-time rights transfers (for a fee) to profit-sharing agreements ensuring creators earn from future sales.

Sounds complex.

It’s not. Picture setting up a hot-dog stand with a friend: I contribute capital and space, so we agree I get 60% of earnings; my partner gets 40%. It’s fundamental negotiation. Granted, I’m simplifying—our lawyers and tech transfer officers spend hours on details—but the core idea isn’t black magic.

Do you also teach your students to protect their interests in this way?

Absolutely. Just last year, several joined a pre-incubation program learning to pitch technologies to clients and monetize them. I also push them toward industry fairs and corporate meetings hosted by the WUT Innovations Centre. My vision? Students and PhDs launching tech startups that merge research excellence with revenue streams. The younger generation no longer separates these spheres—they join international projects where the "both/and" approach is standard, and researchers collaborate with firms as equals. As a technical university, our graduates (biotechnologists included) should excel in high-impact applied research with near-term profitability.

Today’s students also grasp operational realities. They know to patent a technology before publishing. Otherwise, the milk’s spilled—commercialization vanishes. Sadly, this wasn’t obvious in our era.

Speaking of students—what jokes do they make about your classes?

You’d have to ask them [laughs]. I’ve never collected feedback on that. Last semester, during a U.S. research fellowship, I taught lectures from 3–5 a.m. local time without cancelling sessions—a brutal adjustment. I’m sure students bet on whether I’d doze off mid-class [laughs].