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Scientists, Stop Thinking Explaining Science Will Fix Things
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Skeptix List
2017-04-20 13:45:05 UTC
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It won’t. Try this instead.

By Tim Requarth

If you consider yourself to have even a passing familiarity with
science, you likely find yourself in a state of disbelief as the
president of the United States calls climate scientists “hoaxsters”
and pushes conspiracy theories about vaccines. The Trump
administration seems practically allergic to evidence. And it’s not
just Trump—plenty of people across the political spectrum hold bizarre
and inaccurate ideas about science, from climate change and vaccines
to guns and genetically modified organisms.

If you are a scientist, this disregard for evidence probably drives
you crazy. So what do you do about it?

It seems many scientists would take matters into their own hands by
learning how to better communicate their subject to the masses. I’ve
taught science communication at Columbia University and New York
University, and I’ve run an international network of workshops for
scientists and writers for nearly a decade. I’ve always had a handful
of intrepid graduate students, but now, fueled by the Trump
administration’s Etch A Sketch relationship to facts, record numbers
of scientists are setting aside the pipette for the pen. Across the
country, science communication and advocacy groups report upticks in
interest. Many scientists hope that by doing a better job of
explaining science, they can move the needle toward scientific
consensus on politically charged issues. As recent studies from
Michigan State University found, scientists’ top reason for engaging
the public is to inform and defend science from misinformation.

It’s an admirable goal, but almost certainly destined to fail. This is
because the way most scientists think about science communication—that
just explaining the real science better will help—is plain wrong. In
fact, it’s so wrong that it may have the opposite effect of what
they’re trying to achieve.

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Before getting fired up to set the scientific record straight,
scientists would do well to first consider the science of science
communication. The theory many scientists seem to swear by is
technically known as the deficit model, which states that people’s
opinions differ from scientific consensus because they lack scientific
knowledge. In 2010, Dan Kahan, a Yale psychologist, essentially proved
this theory wrong. He surveyed over 1,500 Americans, classifying each
person’s “cultural worldview” on a scale that roughly correlates with
politically liberal or conservative. He then assessed each person’s
scientific literacy with questions such as “True or False: Electrons
are smaller than atoms.” Finally, he asked them about climate change.
If the deficit model were correct, Kahan reasoned, then people with
increased scientific literacy, regardless of worldview, should agree
with scientists that climate change poses a serious risk to humanity.

That’s not what he found. Instead, Kahan found that increased
scientific literacy actually had a small negative effect: The
conservative-leaning respondents who knew the most about science
thought climate change posed the least risk. Scientific literacy, it
seemed, increased polarization. In a later study, Kahan added a twist:
He asked respondents what climate scientists believed. Respondents who
knew more about science generally, regardless of political leaning,
were better able to identify the scientific consensus—in other words,
the polarization disappeared. Yet, when the same people were asked for
their own opinions about climate change, the polarization returned. It
showed that even when people understand the scientific consensus, they
may not accept it.

The takeaway is clear: Increasing science literacy alone won’t change
minds. In fact, well-meaning attempts by scientists to inform the
public might even backfire. Presenting facts that conflict with an
individual’s worldview, it turns out, can cause people to dig in
further. Psychologists, aptly, dubbed this the “backfire effect.”

If scientists simply want to explain science to a curious audience,
disseminate their research more broadly, or write for fun, this
doesn’t matter much. But if scientists are motivated to change
minds—and many enrolled in science communication workshops do seem to
have this goal—they will be sorely disappointed.

That’s not to say scientists should return to the bench and keep their
mouths shut. They should just realize that closing the “information
gap” isn’t the goal. And instead, they need to learn how to
communicate science strategically.

There are obvious reasons why science communication is a necessary and
worthwhile endeavor, but a huge one is that there’s a politically
motivated push to destabilize scientific authority. At a Heartland
Institute conference last month, Lamar Smith, the Republican chairman
of the House science committee, told attendees he would now refer to
“climate science” as “politically correct science,” to loud cheers.
This lumps scientists in with the nebulous “left” and, as Daniel
Engber pointed out here in Slate about the upcoming March for Science,
rebrands scientific authority as just another form of elitism.

Is it any surprise, then, that lectures from scientists built on the
premise that they simply know more (even if it’s true) fail to
convince this audience? Rather than fill the information deficit by
building an arsenal of facts, scientists should instead consider how
they deploy their knowledge. They may have more luck communicating if,
in addition to presenting facts and figures, they appeal to emotions.
This could mean not simply explaining the science of how something
works but spending time on why it matters to the author and why it
ought to matter to the reader. Research also shows that science
communicators can be more effective after they’ve gained the
audience’s trust. With that in mind, it may be more worthwhile to
figure out how to talk about science with people they already know,
through, say, local and community interactions, than it is to try to
publish explainers on national news sites. And they might consider
writing op-eds for their local papers, focusing on why science matters
to their particular communities.

Scientists can also learn to avoid certain pitfalls. I spoke with
Gretchen Goldman, director of the Union of Concerned Scientists’
Center for Science and Democracy, which offers communication and
advocacy workshops. A counterintuitive lesson she’s learned is that
refuting stories that deny climate change by addressing each claim and
explaining why it’s wrong is not that productive. In fact, it could be
counterproductive: “If you repeat the myth, that’s the part people
remember even if you immediately debunk it,” she says. A better
approach, she suggests, is to reframe the issue. Don’t just keep
explaining why climate change is real—explain how climate change will
hurt public health or the local economy. Communication that appeals to
values, not just intellect, research shows, can be far more effective.

Goldman also said scientists can do more than just educate the public:
The Union of Concerned Scientists, for example, has created a science
watchdog team that keeps tabs on the activities of federal agencies.
Signing up helps ensure that policy decisions at all levels are based
on good science.

Top Comment

Upton Sinclair wrote, correctly, that it is impossible to make a man
understand something if his salary depends on his not understanding
it. That can be generalized from salary to self-interest. More...

67 CommentsJoin In
In my own workshops, I’ve certainly been guilty of focusing on
communication skills at the expense of strategy and not fully
addressing the flawed deficit model. But I’m learning to better
challenge scientists’ assumptions about how communication works. The
deficit model, I’ve found, is difficult to unlearn. It’s very logical,
and my hunch is that it comes naturally to scientists because most
have largely spent their lives in school—whether as students,
professors, or mentors—and the deficit model perfectly explains how a
scientist learns science. But the obstacles faced by science
communicators are not epistemological but cultural. The skills
required are not those of a university lecturer but a rhetorician.

There’s a certain irony that scientists, of all people, know so little
about, well, the science of science communication. There’s also a
certain irony that, right here in this article, I’m lecturing
scientists about what they might not know—in other words, I’m guilty
of following the deficit model myself. So in the spirit of doing
better, I’ll not just write this article but also take the time to
talk to scientists in person about how to communicate science
strategically and to explain why it matters. I hope they end up doing
the same.

Tim Requarth is a freelance science journalist and director of
NeuWrite. He has a Ph.D. in neuroscience from Columbia University,
where he also teaches science

http://www.slate.com/articles/health_and_science/science/2017/04/explaining_science_won_t_fix_information_illiteracy.html
Bill Steele
2017-04-21 11:31:50 UTC
Permalink
Debating the science is following a red herring. Follow the money.
Post by Skeptix List
If you consider yourself to have even a passing familiarity with
science, you likely find yourself in a state of disbelief as the
president of the United States calls climate scientists "hoaxsters"
and pushes conspiracy theories about vaccines. The Trump
administration seems practically allergic to evidence. And it's not
just Trump-plenty of people across the political spectrum hold bizarre
and inaccurate ideas about science, from climate change and vaccines
to guns and genetically modified organisms.
If you are a scientist, this disregard for evidence probably drives
you crazy. So what do you do about it?
Bill Steele
***@cornell.edu

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