Perhaps, you believe it is important to make your expertise accessible to people—to scientists in other fields or those who are not in touch with scientific research at all. Or maybe you find your research work lonely or monotonous at times (that happens!) and you would like to do some fun stuff while engaging with others. Maybe, at the end of the day, your research funder obliges you to do some public outreach. And so, you decide you want to do some science communication. That’s great!
By the virtue of knowledge you have accumulated through years of studying and from first-hand experience of professional scientific research, you definitely have something to offer. The question is… Where do you start?
Very possibly, the phrase “science communication” immediately evokes particular associations for you. News outlets. Science fairs. Video blogs. Podcasts. Each one of these focusses on popularising science, discussing science or advocating for certain scientific topics. And so, it may seem then, that doing science communication means simply jumping on board one of those existing projects of your liking – or – starting your own such project by emulating one of them. And that would be a good start.
Still, let’s hang on for a moment. Take a breath. Think. What part of science would you like to talk about? This is not a trivial question. Science has so very many faces! Firstly, there are dozens of scientific disciplines and questions. Of course, there is your own research. However, oftentimes it is so narrow that it is impossible to talk about it without creating around it some comprehensible context. And that’s the first creative challenge to be mentioned.
Whether we want it or not, the specialised language – or jargon – we use in research is a product of a particular professional culture, the academic research culture, and jargon emerged to effectively operate in that culture. It would be naive to expect that someone outside the research world would be able to understand you without some pre-emptive induction or translation. Novice science communicators are often chided for excessive use of scientific slang and jargon. But really, the use of jargon is just a symptom of a bigger – and quite a fun and creative – challenge: how to bring closer and, ideally, organically blend the language of a particular scientific question with our everyday language?
The challenge becomes even more apparent as you widen your circle of discussion topics. Oftentimes, there is only so much you can say about one specific research problem, so, very likely, you would need to get comfortable talking about science that is not your own research: perhaps, something lateral to it or, maybe, different altogether. (Which is, again, normal since a narrow research topic very rarely satisfies the breadth of our own curiosity). And that’s great! Because that’s when you can clearly see that knowing something through research does not automatically translate into being able to make it understandable. What really helps is a certain attention to the creative possibilities of language, or, rather, languag-es we know and use, as well as our willfulness to explore those possibilities in practice. By languages, I don’t mean French, Cantonese or Swahili (although, it is helpful to remind ourselves that science is done in many languages and can – and should – be communicated in many languages too). I rather mean the different expressive and informational resources we use to communicate. One such example is the language of visuals. Or physical movement. Or – language of feelings, emotions and experiences.
Talking about emotions seems to be a sort of taboo in science. Still, that doesn’t mean that scientists don’t go through emotions or don’t experience things. For example, I think of motivation, surprise, wonder, happiness, frustration, boredom, doubt, disappointment, pessimism. On top of this, experiences are not erasable from research and research is not erasable from emotions, even if the (perceived) mark of the profession seems to be to distance oneself from them. That’s because, aside from being many other things, emotions are also our cognitive resources. They are not infallible – but neither is (mythical) “cold” reasoning – yet they help us grasp a way forward – or sideways – when there is no ready-made formula, method or plan, or when the existing ones don’t seem to work.
How does this all relate to the topic of science communication? Well, in the lab, field or library, we spend hours and hours chasing the phenomena we find curious or puzzling, going further and further (and further (still further)) down the rabbit hole of specifications, caveats, ruling-out contingencies and searching for parallels and convergences. This is quite the journey! The journey is full of uncertainties and surprises, which may or may not fully fade away eventually (e.g., think of the problem of induction). And as all this happens, at the very same time, people of other professions are engaged in their own journeys. Just like you may not have a clue about what they are up to, they too may not have a clue about the journey you and your colleagues go through in science. That’s precisely where another creative challenge lies. Sometimes, communicating science is about making it relatable, “experienceable”: understandable not merely as a commodified product, but as an activity, an experience, a journey.
To be clear, I’m not talking about a “hero’s journey”. Or about “constructing a compelling story.” As simple as it may sound, a story is propelled by experiences. But so is life. It is furnished with experiences of moving, staying, trying, avoiding trying, searching for and finding, or failing to find (huh?), or encountering the unexpected (wow!), not knowing what to do with, passing time, getting frustrated, forgetting (oh no!), connecting with, looking forward to and so on and so forth. We share experiences with each other as we find them entertaining, informative, useful, compelling, exciting, motivating, connecting, moving, and while sharing them, we call them “stories”. Navigating our way through first-hand or testimonial life experiences, we also use others’ stories to compose our own. Oftentimes we weave in metaphors or tropes to highlight this or that aspect. And, perhaps, this is how the gulf between the language of research and the language of everyday life can be traversed: via stories that sail back and forth and weave the two (three, five, seven) areas of experience together. To find – or to create – your way of doing this is a whole creative journey.
Some people may worry that storytelling can be dangerous: stories captivate, but they don’t contain an intrinsic filter for falsehoods. This is an enduring concern, but it is also somewhat undiscerning. On the one hand, it seems to imply that science – in practice or principle – is just about scientific facts and is devoid of imaginative leaps, tentative suggestions, discussions, unstructured reflections, detours and comebacks; always calm, clear, composed and certain. For all we know, this, in itself, is fictive, and a fiction not unproblematic. On the other hand, it is not clear what form of communication has intrinsic filters for falsehoods. Here one can start a long and tedious (or exciting) debate about forms of communication and metaphysics of truth, but the tentative answer I suggest is – none. Because, if we squint enough (enough, though), we may see stories as a form of technology; and, as with any piece of technology, it is the responsibility of the user – sensitive and attentive – to not mislead or deceive and, where necessary, to correct. Unfortunately, as Naomi Oreskes tells us, there are scientists who, from their position of authority, set forth rather harmful and deceptive stories. I imagine you, dear reader, are not interested in this path.
Still, it’s important to remember that science not only has many faces – but that those faces can look very different to different people. Perhaps, what you know as science – the insider’s view from the cockpit of your research domain – is your slice of science. You are surrounded by well-meaning researchers willing to positively contribute to society. However, when in 1972 the famous biophysicists Max Delbrück was asked whether pure science is to be seen as overall beneficial, he answered: “It depends”, and then added: “Clearly, the present state of the world – to which science has contributed much – leaves a great deal to be desired, and much to be feared”.
Today, this rings truer than ever. Partially because, pure or not, science heralds powerful technologies, and those, as we mentioned, do not always serve to the best ends. Which is why I personally like to remind myself that “science communication” is a shortening of a more accurate name: “public communication of science and technologies”. Science products – conceptual frameworks, technologies – often confront people where they are, sometimes unexpectedly, and it is not always a nice encounter. If this is what makes some people less trustful of some important scientific outputs, this distrust can hardly be remedied by filing more pamphlets with “correct” scientific answers. Which is why, the good practice of science communication often emphasises the importance of fostering connections, relations and dialogue.
And so we’re back at the creative challenges and the gulf between experiences and languages of science and everyday life. Only this time it is not just about the language and storytelling. It is also about meeting people where they are. Who are those people you want to connect with? What is your relation to them? Do you share the same concerns, worries or experiences? The same interests, cultural references or quirks? Same histories or aspirations? Where are they located? What is their preferred mode of communication? (And what if it’s not digital?) And how might they react to you, not just as a scientist, but as a fellow voyager through space and time and things and experiences? And as the traces of these questions evaporate into thin air, it is time to continue the halted action: to start exploring and experimenting with forms and formats of your science communication. Good luck!
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