by Judith Curry
Don’t think you need to teach the public a lot of science facts. Instead, show what science is, what it means, why we need it. Find a way to have a presence. Choose what to comment on, how to be involved, and what actions and issues to engage in. Be a source of wisdom. – Carl Safina
Too often, when scientists discuss communicating science, they are referring to ways of effectively ‘activating’ science to convince the public to do (or not do) something.
On the Backpage of APS News, Carl Safina has a refreshing essay entitled Why communicate science? Some excerpts:
Communicating science takes time away from research, from teaching, from being home; from something else we need to be doing. The time is not adequately compensated. Doing interviews with reporters, or visiting legislators, has no assigned “impact factor” that boosts vitae-value. Appearing on the radio or TV or in the news, giving talks to civic groups, writing op-eds or articles geared to “popular” audiences, or even a translational book for the general public; all count little, sometimes nothing, towards tenure. Sometimes they actually hurt. Communicating science can be seen as unprofessional. Peers may think less of you. It may seem absurd that many scientists would think it unprofessional to explain science, but that thinking is a fact in academia. And anyway, communicating is the job of communicators such as professional science writers.
All the above reasons not to communicate science are valid. Next question: Are those reasons sufficient? Charles Darwin and Albert Einstein apparently didn’t think so. Granted, we’re not them. We all juggle priorities and make compromises on how we can and must spend our time. But it’s my conviction that scientists should elevate communicating science as something important and worthwhile. That brings us to “Why.”
Some scientists believe we should communicate because public support is crucial for continued public funding. That’s circular and self-serving. In the long run, it’s likely self-defeating. Simply explaining that the space program resulted in such marvels as Tang and Teflon–two oft-cited benefits of science that, in fact, everyone can live without–doesn’t adequately elevate the power of science above everything else vying for public money, such as military spending, bank-bailouts, infrastructure, etc., etc.
I believe it’s important for people to get to know scientists as people, as members of civil society in their communities. And I believe the message is not one of facts, nor reports about the latest research, but of the overarching and deeply penetrating grandeur of science: how it uniquely has the power to unlock the secrets of life and the universe–and how scientific thinking can help people evaluate claims, think for themselves, and demand proof.
Science teaches people to be skeptical of claims. In fact, a scientific approach–using information to sort through one’s own biases, and demanding proof as a way of evaluating conflicting claims–is necessary for good citizenship. It is necessary for avoiding being preyed upon by people with ambitions, ideologies, and advertisements.
Scientific thinking requires us to consider all available information bearing on a question, to face the possibility that even our own best guess was wrong, and to advance what we know even when it’s different than what we thought we knew. Scientific thinking is what everyone could use.
By being ferociously honest, science has given us real comprehension of our place in the universe, in time, and in the splendid pageant of life. Science has curiosity, self-motivation, and the quest for what’s real. Science is often magnificent, and occasionally–let’s face it–truly awesome.
Science–being the collective endeavor of scientists–isn’t perfect. Scientists are people. People make mistakes. Scientists have egos, jealousies–science is human. But science is an attempt to avoid what’s worst about being human and to bring out what’s best. It doesn’t have the hubris to think it knows everything. It holds no dogma. It is a system for working around bias and cutting through preconceived notions and prejudices.
As science progresses through time, it has a strong tendency toward correcting its misperceptions, accepting those corrections, and spiraling in on the truth.
Since science tries to honestly know what’s going on, and good decisions require at least that, scientists are often those best-informed to advise society on what should be done. Academic scientists, particularly, are the closest thing civilization has to a non-biased reservoir of truth.
Many scientists believe they should avoid “advocacy.” If scientists decide not to engage, less-informed policy makers, pressured by less-objective advocates, will make decisions anyway. They’ll often do so without the benefit of the best advice they might have gotten, or without anyone arguing on behalf of the facts.
When I was in grad school working toward my PhD in ecology, I was told by a member of my own PhD committee that doing applied work toward solving problems in society, “is for people who aren’t smart enough to get a PhD.” Did they mean I was not smart enough? Should I prove how smart I am by not being concerned about the world’s problems? Apparently so, because later, a professor at an ivy-league school told me–with apparent pride–“We solve puzzles, not problems.” Well, that’s the ivory tower for you. But even in the ivory tower, the rent comes due.
By estranging itself from people and problems, science suffers a perception of irrelevance–a perception science itself too often chooses. To the extent that scientists think they’re above society’s problems, and academic institutions give no credit to the communication activities of faculty members, and scientists cast aspersions upon colleagues who try to engage with decision-making in the wider world, that is the extent to which science helps facilitate dilemmas that it could help to solve. In practice, science cedes to less benevolent interests much of its own power to help guide society.
Good communication skills are learned, but talent and instinct are also involved. While I do think we have a responsibility to share what we know, it’s not for everyone. On this, one has to be one’s own judge. Some people are best as teachers, others add illumination to hotly debated issues such as climate science. The important thing is to find the right fit, and feel the right balance, for you. But the other important thing is: do something. Wield the knowledge, the value, or just the informed perspective that you have.
So what messages should scientists “communicate?” Many scientists assume that to “communicate science” would be to translate scientific findings, putting journal articles into plain language in a press release, in case anyone’s interested. And sometimes it is. But that’s not what I’m getting at.
I’m getting at something less prescriptive, more amorphous, more persistent and more penetrating. I’m saying that scientists should be a much greater presence in society, should be brighter on the public’s radar, and that how, exactly, we do it, is up to each of us.
The public doesn’t need to keep up-to-date on journal publications. What people do need to know is that scientists are people, that science is an honorable, trustworthy, and powerful endeavor that people should look to for answers, and as a way to help think through decisions. Every child asks, “Why is the sky blue?” People need to know that scientists are the ones among us who never stopped asking that question–and who found the answer.