I may not be very good at reaching a broad audience, but thanks to Randy Olson's Don't Be Such a Scientist, I have a good idea of the skills I need to develop if I'm ever going to do it. In their recent book, Unscientific America, Chris Mooney and Sheril Kirshenbaum argue that scientists are partly to blame for science's lack of prominence, relevance, and influence, precisely because we haven't paid attention to the skills that Randy describes.
They won't get an argument from me on that point. In fact, that's the point I argued in my presidential address to the Botanical Society of America a couple of months ago. Here's how Mooney and Kirshenbaum put it:
Mooney and Kirshenbaum gloss over a distinction that's as hard to communicate as it is important to understand, the difference between what scientists can conclude about the world as scientists and what science-informed policies should be adopted. Science should inform the agenda for the future, but science alone can't set it.
Take climate change for example.
They won't get an argument from me on that point. In fact, that's the point I argued in my presidential address to the Botanical Society of America a couple of months ago. Here's how Mooney and Kirshenbaum put it:
[W]e need a nation in which science has far more prominence in politics and the media, far more relevance to the life of every American, far more intersections with other walks of life, and ultimately, far more influence where it truly matters -- namely, in setting the agenda for the future as far out as we can possibly glimpse it. (emphasis added)Houston, we have a problem.
Mooney and Kirshenbaum gloss over a distinction that's as hard to communicate as it is important to understand, the difference between what scientists can conclude about the world as scientists and what science-informed policies should be adopted. Science should inform the agenda for the future, but science alone can't set it.
Take climate change for example.
Science can tell us that on our current trajectory, atmospheric levels of carbon dioxide will increase substantially, that global average surface temperatures will increase 2-4°C over the next century, that low-lying areas near the seas will be flooded, and that the frequency and severity of droughts will increase in some areas (like the southwestern US).1
What science can't tell us is how much we should invest in stopping or slowing emissions of carbon dioxide, That depends not only on how much it would cost, which economists can estimate for us, but also on the kind of world we want to live in.
The impacts of global climate change will be distributed very unevenly across the globe.2 Those who live in areas that will be little affected might not be willing to invest much to protect those who will be devastated. Maybe that's ungenerous of them, but our assessment that they're being ungenerous to take that position is an ethical judgment, not a scientific one.
Whenever we talk about how people, businesses, organizations, or governments should conduct their business, we're into a realm of values where scientists have to tread carefully. As individuals, we have as much right as anyone else to advocate for outcomes we favor. As scientists, we need to be as clear as we can on where science stops and where value judgments begin.3
And there's the rub for communicating science broadly. If someone, whether a friend or a reporter, asks us what we think, they're not going to be satisfied with a cold assessment of what the different outcomes are. They're going to ask "Should we limit carbon dioxide emissions or not?", "Should we put the polar bear on the endangered species list?", "Is it OK to hunt wolves in Idaho?" If we try to answer with only the science, they'll think we're being weasely. If we answer "Yes, we should limit carbon dioxide emissions", they'll take that as a scientific answer no matter how carefully we try to explain how our answer depends both on science (the consequences of different choices) and ethics or aesthetics (how we value those outcomes).
So we have a choice. Stick strictly to the science and be seen as weasly, maybe even unlikeable. Or stick our necks out at take a position based both on our understanding of the science and on our ethical and aesthetic values and be a bit more likeable.
Me? I try to be likeable, but that's a choice each one of us has to make. But no matter what we decide about that, there's one thing we all must do: be true to the science. We have to be honest about what the data say, even if the data tell us things about the policy we'd prefer to adopt that we'd rather not hear.
1That list could go on for a long time.
2And across large countries like the United States.
3It is, of course, a continuum, not a sharp boundary. But black and white are different, even though there are many shades of gray between them.
What science can't tell us is how much we should invest in stopping or slowing emissions of carbon dioxide, That depends not only on how much it would cost, which economists can estimate for us, but also on the kind of world we want to live in.
The impacts of global climate change will be distributed very unevenly across the globe.2 Those who live in areas that will be little affected might not be willing to invest much to protect those who will be devastated. Maybe that's ungenerous of them, but our assessment that they're being ungenerous to take that position is an ethical judgment, not a scientific one.
Whenever we talk about how people, businesses, organizations, or governments should conduct their business, we're into a realm of values where scientists have to tread carefully. As individuals, we have as much right as anyone else to advocate for outcomes we favor. As scientists, we need to be as clear as we can on where science stops and where value judgments begin.3
And there's the rub for communicating science broadly. If someone, whether a friend or a reporter, asks us what we think, they're not going to be satisfied with a cold assessment of what the different outcomes are. They're going to ask "Should we limit carbon dioxide emissions or not?", "Should we put the polar bear on the endangered species list?", "Is it OK to hunt wolves in Idaho?" If we try to answer with only the science, they'll think we're being weasely. If we answer "Yes, we should limit carbon dioxide emissions", they'll take that as a scientific answer no matter how carefully we try to explain how our answer depends both on science (the consequences of different choices) and ethics or aesthetics (how we value those outcomes).
So we have a choice. Stick strictly to the science and be seen as weasly, maybe even unlikeable. Or stick our necks out at take a position based both on our understanding of the science and on our ethical and aesthetic values and be a bit more likeable.
Me? I try to be likeable, but that's a choice each one of us has to make. But no matter what we decide about that, there's one thing we all must do: be true to the science. We have to be honest about what the data say, even if the data tell us things about the policy we'd prefer to adopt that we'd rather not hear.
1That list could go on for a long time.
2And across large countries like the United States.
3It is, of course, a continuum, not a sharp boundary. But black and white are different, even though there are many shades of gray between them.
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