Communicating to the Public: Make Science Relevant, Human, and Clear

How well are we communicating science to the public? First, let's start with the children. Let's look at the results of the Third International Mathematics and Science Study. Tests were administered to about a half-million students in 41 countries in 1995, and the results were released in March 1998. We know that our fourth graders stack up reasonably well compared to peers in 40 other countries. Remarkably, by eighth grade, United States students are less competitive, and by graduation from high school, they are nearly at the bottom of the pack. The more time spent in school, the less competitive U.S. students become. The questions on the test were "designed to measure general knowledge and skills necessary for citizens in their daily life." There was no rocket science and no requests to calculate pi to 20 places. Here is an example of a question: "Experts say that 25 percent of all serious bicycle accidents involve head injuries and that, of all head injuries, 80 percent are fatal. What percentage of all serious bicycle accidents involve fatal head injuries?" There were four choices, and 57 percent of the American students--barely more than half--got it right. The international average was 64 percent. If a student has a 25 percent random chance of picking the right answer and only half did, what does that mean about our teaching? On general math, the U.S. placed 19th, edging out only Cyprus and South Africa. In science, we were 16th. In advanced math and science, things were worse. Only 14 percent of the U.S. seniors qualified to take the test at all. Here our all-stars were second from last, besting only Austria. In physics, only 14 percent qualified, and in this category we have the distinction of being dead-last. We pour billions of dollars into teaching and produce a team of uncompetitive students. What is at the root of our failure to communicate effectively? How does the public feel about science and medicine--which are often melded together along with technology to form a single perceived topic? The U. S. public first noticed science after World War II, when the impact of the atom bomb brought scientists to the forefront. The promise had become reality: penicillin, polio vaccine, and space exploration. The magic of being able to prevent and cure disease was upon us; everyone's life was directly affected. The "demon behind the iron curtain" had launched a tiny object into the night sky--"Sputnik"--and we desperately wanted our technology to be better than theirs. Our major concern was that with science and technology, curing our diseases, cleaning our homes, and exploring our universe, we would have little to do. As we communicate the success, awe, and wonderment of science, the wonders themselves evoke questions and worries. Consider, for example, from 1972, the "Tuskegee Study of Untreated Syphilis in the Negro Male." U.S. Public Health Service doctors had followed 600 poor black men in Macon, Ga., 399 of whom had syphilis. The patients received free meals, medical exams, and burial insurance for participation. When penicillin, a treatment for syphilis, came along, they did not receive it. No wonder medical research scares the public. Shortly thereafter, the Willowbrook study was announced. With permission of the parents of mentally retarded children, doctors infected inmates at the Staten Island hospital with hepatitis B. Ethics was not a popular topic in biological journals in the 1970s, but today many journals raise issues of ethical concerns, scientists are pensive and often divided themselves on issues that, at one time, were not even discussed. There is increased contemplation about the problems of socially applied science. The potential problems are now matters of public and legal concern. Could a cell taken from an aborted fetus be used to clone a human, producing a baby whose parent was never born? What are the rights of a surrogate mother? At divorce, who owns a fertilized egg? Does a fertilized egg have the "right" to be born? Time Magazine recently reviewed a "test tube tug of war," in which a married couple spent $75,000 on in vitro fertilization and had, in a freezer, a group of fertilized eggs. At divorce, she sued for the eggs with the intention of having children. He argued that he didn't wish to have children with a woman with whom he had little in common--much less take on the legal requirement of supporting their children. The courts decided one way, then--on appeal--the other. Science has moved at a pace that has outstripped the ability of law, morals, and ethics to keep up. What should be required of banks that maintain sperm donations--especially given that much of this sector is a "for-profit" business? The complexity of these issues may explain why herbal medicine and crystals offer easy solutions and simple cures, especially at a time when science and medicine are often viewed as "impersonal." What are our obligations as biological editors? Can we tell people too much? Dare we tell people too little? A society that once viewed physicians and scientists as among the most reputable in society last year ascribed that honor to pharmacists, relegating scientists to low positions in the top 50. I think we all have a responsibility here. Not just as editors, but as scientists and physicians as well, to communicate effectively to the public about what we do. That responsibility is self-serving, too: the political agenda also dictates the national budget. Informed taxpayers, aware of the important biological advances--improved health and longer life expectancy--are our best allies. Science, often viewed by the public as identical to technology, has scared many people. Why? Many studies suggest that science is intimidating: it makes people feel like small cogs in large uncaring machines. It makes you search for something simpler--more understandable, more caring. The overly simplistic belief that anything that is "natural" is curative and can't hurt you is a good example. I have grown increasingly attuned to how we tell our story and why it must be told. At my institution, because we did something that was reported in the literature on primate cloning, we have been increasingly the object of complaints by the animal rights community. Do I like vivisection? No; anyone who does probably needs psychiatric attention. Can I understand why we do animal research? Yes. "Rights" for animals is an issue of debate, but the "need" is compelling to most of us. The challenge of communicating this concept to the nonscientific community is substantial, and it needs to be undertaken. We have to communicate our message to the public, and it must be done in a compassionate, sensitive, and understandable way. We need to communicate in human terms, not in terms of molecular biology. The most human descriptions relate to human well-being. We need to communicate in terms of disease prevention and treatment. If a general public believes that animal research is not needed to develop cures and vaccines, then it has no relevance to their lives and needs not be supported. If the general public believes that the wearing of a crystal is an adequate and a cost-effective treatment for cancer, then why should we support the development of other approaches? The first rule, then, in communicating science to the public is: Make it relevant. Communicate in human terms. Explain how issues are important to people. The second is a correlate: Avoid confusion. Don't "jargonize." That's just good writing. The final is: Do it. Take the time. Make the commitment. It seems to go without saying, but most "hard-core" scientific journals believe that their mission is to present peer-reviewed scientific data. If editors are to be effective communicators to the public, then they must provide forums to present, test, and allow scrutiny of scientific ideas. What better place than in the same spot in which we present our scientific studies? It's where scientists look. I maintain that it is our role as editors, as leaders, to set aside a modest number of our pages to address matters of scientific ethics. Perhaps as little as an average of 1 percent is all that is needed. There are a number of other problems that are present now and will become more obvious as our culture becomes even more electronic. When I was a child there was a great way to win an argument: "It must be true. ... I read it in a book." Books were sources of facts, enduring truths that were beyond argument, beyond challenge. But we are now moving toward a virtual library, one accessed from your home on a screen. Let's face it, anyone with 80 bucks and access to an 11-year-old who knows HTML can set up a Web site and place there, as fact, anything he or she wishes. Here are a few "facts" I found on the Web: Baldness alternates generations --I now know this isn't true but clung to this hope as a child. Cancer is incurable. Basic science can be done exclusively on computers without using animals. If it comes from nature, it can't hurt you. Thus, we must be sure that we never present the Web as totally factual. By its nature, it isn't. The next problem of the electronic era is that we must learn to communicate effectively in the media. In a 30-second sound byte, an analytic message is blurred and given equal basis with mythology. The announcement that a gene has been identified has no relevance unless the public hears how their lives are affected. Provide a forum for examination of ethical issues. Educate the public--all the public--about science. Educate and help the public to understand issues. Remember, you are communicating with voters (who pay for research), patients (who benefit from it), and children (who may make their lives' work of it). Stimulate young people about the relation of science to their everyday life. Seek more effective ways to communicate. Communicate in human terms. What I am suggesting is that we, as editors, have a responsibility to ensure the communication of science. We have to put at the disposal of scientists the opportunity to understand and discuss how their work affects people. We must provide the public with an understanding of what we do and what can come from it. This helps promote the integration of science and the ability of laws, morals, and ethics to keep pace. Finally, we must be sure that science is communicated to the next generation. P. Michael Conn is editor of Endocrine; Contemporary Endocrinology; and Recent Progress in Hormone Research. He also is associate director and senior scientist at the Oregon Regional Primate Research Center, special assistant to the president and professor of physiology and pharmacology at Oregon Health Sciences University, and president of STAR Park Inc. This article is adapted from a recent speech before the Council of Biological Editors.

Communicating to the Public: Make Science Relevant, Human, and Clear

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Michael Conn

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July 1998

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