Illuminating Scientific Facts Through Fiction

The need for the popularization of science is almost as old as science itself. Like every generation with its own set of societal problems, ours thinks of today's problems as particularly acute. Current examples are the explosive growth of scientific information at a time when general scientific illiteracy is growing alarmingly; the complexity of "technological fixes" presented to a risk-aversive public suffering from chemophobia and oncophobia; the almost pathetic desire of legislators and communications media for simple black-and-white answers to intrinsically gray questions. There is no single optimum solution, other than the nirvana of universal, high-class education. Nevertheless, the need for improved communication with the general nonscientific and even antiscientific public continues to seize our attention, as witness several letters from readers of The Scientist in response to John Wilkes' article "Scientists Should Spend More Time Communicating With The Public" (The Scientist, Jan. 8, 1990, page 15) and Dixy Lee Ray's essay "Who's To Blame When The Public Misunderstands Science?" (The Scientist, April 16, 1990, page 17). I take this opportunity to address a related problem: the gradual change in the general public's perception of the character of scientists and the conduct of scientific research. The most glaring example is the current attempt of legislators--prompted by some recent, highly publicized instances of outright fraud in research-- to equate uncertainty and honest error with such social deviance, and to display the typical American knee-jerk response of "sue the bastards." I am concerned that in addition to not explaining properly the science we do, we are even less efficient in explaining the behavior and cultures of scientists. To cite just a single gray example: Most academics in the humanities are shocked by the multiple authorship practices of laboratory scientists, most notably the inclusion of authors--usually senior professors or laboratory directors--who have done none of the actual experimental work; many have not even participated in the writing of the manuscript. If professors of English do not comprehend that practice of their colleagues in chemistry or physics, how can we expect the great mass of scientifically unwashed legislators, let alone the general public, to have an understanding of, or sympathy for, our modus operandi? As my small personal contribution to a better understanding of some of the unwritten rules of scientific behavior, I have chosen an infrequently used literary genre: science-in-fiction, in which the plot is populated by real scientists doing plausible science and the events occur in realistic settings. The initial responses by nonscientists to my experimentation with this literary form have led me to encourage others to do likewise. Important current issues--such as the underrepresentation of women in the higher echelons of most laboratory disciplines, the nature of the mentor-disciple relationship, the ethical conduct of research--have all been the subjects of many serious articles and books. But how does one get these writings before that huge segment of the reading public that never even sees such publications? Dressing these ideas in the garments of fiction is one way of introducing them to a new constituency. Indeed, there are even more esoteric topics--all related to our standards and behavior--that might be presented under the guise of fiction. "Publications, priorities, the order of the authors, the choice of the journal, the collegiality and the brutal competition, academic tenure, grantsmanship, the Nobel Prize." constitutes an incomplete list of topics that I cited and then covered in my novel Cantor's Dilemma (New York: Doubleday, 1989); topics, which I claim in that book to be "the soul and baggage of contemporary science." I can think of worse things to happen to scientists and nonscientists alike than the appearance out of the woodwork of another generation of C.P. Snows. Carl Djerassi is professor of chemistry at Stanford University. He currently is finishing his second "science-in-fiction" novel. His autobiography, The Pill, Pygmy Chimps, and Degas's Horse, will be published by MacMillan (1991).

Illuminating Scientific Facts Through Fiction

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