Read an Excerpt
Escape from the Ivory Tower
A Guide to Making Your Science Matter
By Nancy Baron ISLAND PRESS
Copyright © 2010 Nancy Baron
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-59726-965-0
CHAPTER 1
Introduction
Science is more than just fascinating knowledge, it is also useful knowledge. I believe passionately that science should inform our decisions.
—Jane Lubchenco
Do you think your science should be useful? Would you like it to influence public policy or gain widespread recognition beyond your peers? Or perhaps even sway public opinion and help steer the course of history or human behavior? That's what this book is about: learning how to make your science matter, rather than getting buried in the dusty piles of scientific articles that collect in drifts on shelves and forgotten computer files.
This is a time of great challenges and opportunities for scientists and society. President Barack Obama famously promised to restore science "to its rightful place" after a long period of being sidelined and "to listen to what scientists have to say, even when it's inconvenient—especially when it's inconvenient" (Obama 2008). It is time for the very best scientists to engage.
Science is on the front lines as the U.S. Congress and state governments are paying increasing attention and debating climate change and other environmental and sustainability issues. The calls are mounting for scientists to talk to decision makers, provide testimony, answer journalists' questions, and help inform the public on issues of societal urgency. Yet there is a dearth of scientists who can deliver their information effectively and are willing to speak out.
On the heels of her confirmation as chief administrator of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), Jane Lubchenco offered her perspective: "Decisions are going to take into account a number of things—values, politics, economics—but science should be at the table in a way that is understandable and relevant and credible and salient" (Witze 2009).
Lubchenco long ago became convinced of society's need for scientists to be more engaged. She sacrificed time from her research to assume leadership roles where she espoused the importance of communicating science. Her first call to arms came in a 1998 Science paper, "Entering the Century of the Environment: A New Social Contract for Science," where she argued that scientists need to be more forthcoming and share their research to benefit government managers, policymakers, and society at large. She urged her colleagues to invoke "the full power of the scientific enterprise in discovering new knowledge, in communicating existing and new understanding to the public and to policymakers, and in helping society move toward sustainability through a better understanding of the consequences of policy actions—or inaction" (Lubchenco 1998).
But Lubchenco didn't enter her field to change the world. Her story began in much the same way as yours did, most likely. You were probably driven, at least in the early days, by an intense desire to follow your curiosity. You dove into an all-consuming passion, pursuing answers to the questions that intrigued you—learning for learning's sake.
But then, perhaps you reached a second stage marked by a creeping awareness that what you are studying is changing—and likely not for the better. This is particularly true if you study the natural world. Environmental researchers, witnesses to nature, are often among the first to spot early signs when things are not as they should be.
At some point, your studies may have switched from understanding the natural aspects of a species, ecosystem, or physical phenomenon to investigating those changes that are cause for concern. Growing frustration and alarm may lead to the third stage—voicing your views as an expert.
"Two experiences motivated my decision to become engaged in science to inform policy decisions," says Barry Noon, an ecologist at Colorado State University who became embroiled in the spotted owl debate. "The first was a personal sense of loss over places that were important to me as a child—specifically, trout streams in Pennsylvania that I fished with my father. The second was a sense of anger over the distortion of science findings, stemming from research that I and others engaged in."
Yet moving beyond the safe, well-defined confines of research can be a difficult and even scary decision. Are you going to try to do something about the changes you are seeing? How do you reach beyond your research circles to communicate what you are observing to the wider world—why it matters, the potential risks, the possible solutions?
If you decide you want to inform those outside your research arena and help guide public discourse, you will need to learn a new set of skills. These include knowing exactly what you want to say, understanding your audience, and using common language to get your main points across clearly.
Ironically, just at the moment when science has more than ever to say about urgent issues, you must learn to navigate a world that is in rapid flux. The media is undergoing a revolution, and as a result, opportunities for scientists are simultaneously shrinking in some areas while expanding in others. Mainstream media outlets, especially newspapers, are in financial crisis, struggling to find new sources of income as subscriptions plummet and advertising goes to Craigslist and other places online. Still, mainstream media remain trusted sources of reliable information. At the same time, "new media" venues play an increasingly important role. They are instant, responsive, and effective at activating the power of the crowd. Often they riff off the mainstream media who do the original reporting. Questions still linger regarding the trustworthiness of some "new media," which is often heavy on opinion.
As the rules for what constitutes news are rewritten, the boundaries between old and new have blurred. Mainstream sources have begun to resemble "new" media by incorporating video, podcasting, and blogs, while online sources endeavor to earn credibility by instituting more formal editorial guidelines and processes. In light of such rapid and sweeping changes, only one thing is certain: the appetite for science news and information is alive and well, and if you can clearly and concisely articulate why your science matters, your message can transcend the medium.
Despite the stresses the news industry is enduring, local and national mainstream journalists still serve as gatekeepers. Talking to them remains a good way to reach other audiences. It identifies you to decision makers and politicians as an expert. A well-timed media story can break a logjam when government agencies are bogged down and unable—or unwilling—to act. Shining the media spotlight on an issue can force a resolution: whether or not to protect a species, to remove a dam, to allow roads to be built, or to challenge an environmental standard.
Journalists investigate important issues that are often out of sight and out of mind, like excessive harvesting of fish or forests, pollution, or habitat destruction, and bring them into focus for the public and policymakers. On the other hand, investing time in new media—whether firsthand by blogging or podcasting yourself, or talking to other preexisting outlets—can establish you as an authority who brings valuable viewpoints to the table. You can also build a following through social media, which raises your profile even further.
All media have their place in influencing society. Getting to know which media have the audiences you would like to reach can help guide you as you decide where to put your efforts. Ideally you can use both new and traditional forms to communicate most broadly.
Yet most research career paths don't prepare scientists to talk to the media, policymakers, or other audiences outside of academia. Some researchers have the horror stories to prove it.
Barry Gold, director of the marine conservation initiative at the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation, learned the hard way about lack of preparation. When Gold was chief of the U.S. government's Grand Canyon Monitoring and Research Center, he led an effort to figure out how to restore portions of the degraded Colorado River ecosystem. "I got a call from the local press and I didn't take the time the night before to prepare for the interview," Gold reminisces. "At the end, the reporter asked me, 'What should be the headline?' I said, 'Gee, I don't know.' The next morning, there was the story on the front page of our local newspaper, with exactly the wrong headline and exactly the wrong message."
Alan Townsend, an ecologist and biogeochemist at the University of Colorado at Boulder, learned it's not what a scientist says, but how one says it. "I got a phone call from Discover magazine and in ten minutes I took the reporter from being really interested to mind-jarringly bored. He said 'thank you very much' and hung up. I never heard from him again."
Conveying important scientific insights to policymakers can be even more confounding, given their harried schedules, limited attention spans, and lack of background knowledge. Frank Davis, a professor at the Bren School of Environmental Science and Management at the University of California at Santa Barbara, bemoans a sense of "missing" when trying to communicate his science to policymakers and their staffs: "I talk to a lot to decision makers and I often get this feeling we are talking right past each other."
Scientists typically have one of two responses to poor results in dealings with the press and policymakers. One is sheer avoidance: skip that public hearing; ignore a request to meet with a policymaker; neglect to return a news reporter's phone call. Let's call this the ostrich approach. It usually doesn't serve anyone well. The second response, and the purpose of this book, is to rise to the challenge and learn the new set of skills.
As a scientist, you've learned much harder things because you're good at the most important element of success in this endeavor: preparation. If you prepare yourself for reaching out beyond the lab, field site, or office, you may join the ranks of top-of-their game scientists who excel at public discourse. You will most certainly increase the odds that you will competently convey an important message.
If this might seem like a stretch for you, I've witnessed this transformation over and over again in my longstanding role as the lead communications trainer for COMPASS and the Leopold Leadership trainings. I've seen nervous scientists who stumble in public discourse blossom into articulate, confident spokespeople for their disciplines.
A new breed of environmental scientist is emerging, including ecologists, economists, engineers, epidemiologists, chemists, philosophers, and social scientists who see the value in connecting their science to the world at large. They are communicators and leaders who inform and influence policy, and can talk about their science in ways that make people sit up, take notice, and care. Some are reaching out via new media, by blogging, doing podcasts, and putting a lot of effort into developing public-friendly websites. They are launching themselves into to a new orbit of engagement as communicators and leaders who move between the worlds of science and policy with ease, confidence, and even grace. And so can you.
The intention of this book is to offer you the motivation and, most important, the tools to get your information out, to be heard and understood. It can help you get started or advance your skills with practical advice on how to distill your core messages, talk to journalists and policymakers, prepare for an interview, write an op-ed, give testimony, prepare a "leave behind" for meetings with policymakers, promote a paper, anticipate and deal with back-lash—in sum, to speak up for your science. These lessons will help you communicate what you know and contribute to making the world a better place.
Whether or not you feel prepared for it, society may come knocking at your door. Or you may be thinking about reaching out to the rest of the world because you care deeply and believe you can make a difference. The following chapters can help you learn the skills you need, increase your comfort level, and build your confidence so that you will be ready.
How to Use This Book
Scientists often assume that people will naturally understand why their science is important. But more often than not, they don't. The person who you are talking to (or perhaps at) is wondering, "Why are you telling me this?" When the answer is not forthcoming, people soon cease to listen or care. Watch them closely and you can see when their eyes begin to glaze over.
This book can help you get and keep their attention. It begins with a discussion of "culture clashes," comparing and contrasting the worlds of scientists with those of journalists and policymakers, and describes what these folks generally want from you.
The "how to" chapters offer simple and effective tools and strategies to engage your audience. With a little practice, researchers can communicate scientific information to policymakers in much the same way a journalist does: by asking (and answering), "What is the bottom line?" You can reach out through a wide range of ways, and this book gives you specific directions as to how. Our website gives you more examples and exercises to teach yourself or your students.
Embedded in each chapter are short case stories about other scientists' experiences and essays by journalists or policy experts that answer your most common questions, including:
• Why can't I read your news story ahead of time?
• How do I deal with scientific uncertainty?
• Why do journalists quote contrarians or others who don't know the science?
• What are the ups and downs of new media?
• Should I blog?
• Where do policymakers get their information?
• What do they want from me and how do I deliver it?
The final section offers advice on how to deal with backlash, as well as exploring the link between communications and leadership and how to become an "agent of change." This is grist to help you make some decisions, including what's the best fit for you and where you want to be. Throughout this book, you will see the icon whenever we have additional context, examples, and related materials on our website www.EscapeFromTheIvoryTower.com.
If you feel that engaging with the wider world is part of your job—or are at least contemplating it—this book is for you. Hopefully it will also encourage scientists who are already publicly engaged and are looking for more tools and ideas to help them along. For graduate students and young scientists, who often need no convincing, it provides a how-to guide and exercises. For those who have participated in our communications workshops, it's a manual to help bring these ideas to your students and colleagues. And while this book is targeted at scientists whose work is related to the environment, it applies to anyone who is an expert and wants to make their science matter.
CHAPTER 2
The Decision to Speak Out
The saddest aspect of life today is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.
—Isaac Asimov
Ransom "Ram" Myers was the last scientist one would ever expect to turn into a spokesperson for the world's fisheries. A self-described "math weenie," he loved "mining" and analyzing mountains of fisheries data. This PhD biologist found more than comfort in the numbers; he found the answers to solve problems. Data revealed truth.
For more than a decade, beginning in the late 1980s, he pored over fisheries statistics as a government scientist in one of Canada's most politicized agencies, the Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO). The numbers revealed a troubling trend: a centuries old staple fishery—the North Atlantic cod—was in trouble. Myers's investigations revealed that far fewer young cod were surviving than was previously believed, dashing future hopes for cod stocks facing chronic overexploitation. Between 1993 and 1997, Myers and his colleague Jeffrey Hutchings of Dalhousie University published twenty-eight peer-reviewed papers on the collapse of northern cod. But his conclusions were at odds with his superiors who believed that the numbers of upcoming young would be sufficient to stave off disaster. They ignored his recommendation that the department cut back catches to protect the fishery for the future.
"I tried to do an honest job of it," said Myers. The government had other plans. It tried to bury papers written by Myers, Hutchings, and DFO fisheries scientist Alan Sinclair. It even went so far as to block them from presenting their findings that overfishing, not harp seals, was primarily to blame for falling stocks at scientific meetings. Their science-backed conclusions contradicted the government's party line. Myers broke ranks and went public, which made a splash across the front page of Canada's national newspaper, the Globe and Mail: "Overfishing, not seals, killed cod, buried fisheries report reveals" (Thorne 1997). Reprimanded by his superiors—including the minister of fisheries, who called the scientists, among other things, "prima donnas"—Myers had had enough. He left government work for the academic freedom of a professorship of biology at Dalhousie University in 1997.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Escape from the Ivory Tower by Nancy Baron. Copyright © 2010 Nancy Baron. Excerpted by permission of ISLAND PRESS.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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