Who's To Blame When The Public Misunderstands Science?

Repeatedly over the past few years, the American public has been subjected to a litany of catastrophe - to predictions of impending disaster that are claimed to be unique to modern civilization. The oceans are dying, the atmosphere is poisoned, the earth itself is losing its capacity to support life. The reported "hole" in the ozone layer is the most recent scare. Cancer, generally blamed on man-made chemicals, is rampant - so the doomsayers say. Warnings that in the past came from the pulpit and called for eternal punishment in the sulfurous fires of hell have been replaced by equally dire predictions that come from alarmist environmentalists who call for spending billions of dollars in order to avoid doom from the sulfurous effluents of industry. The anticipated catastrophes are our own fault, of course, blamed on the greedy and perfidious nature of modern man. Is it true? As with so many issues that involve technology, the answer is yes - and no - probably rather more "no" than "yes." What are our real environmental concerns? Cancer-causing chemicals? Radiation, including radon? Carbon dioxide, ozone, and the "greenhouse effect"? Recall that, with the exception of childhood leukemia (always tragic, but relatively rare), cancer is a malady that afflicts predominantly older adults and the aged. For most cancers - and there are many different kinds - the causes are complex and interactive, and may include genetic factors. If we look at the fatality rec-ords, the facts show that the total of carcinogenic substances targeted by the Environmental Protection Agency, including chemicals in the workplace, in the environment, in food additives, and industrial products, cause fewer than 8 percent of all cancer deaths in America. The best scientific evidence points to diet, viruses, sexual practices, alcohol, and, above all, tobacco as accounting for nearly all of the remaining 92 percent. Yet the public, by constantly reported innuendo against industrial chemicals and radiation, is encouraged to believe otherwise. Most of the public believes that cancer is caused by toxic substances created by industry. Why? Because they listen to the wrong spokesmen. And national television has elevated sob-sister journalism to a new dramatic high, with emotional, heartrending stories of childhood leukemia and other individual or family tragedies as if they were epidemic. These stories capture public attention and play on natural sympathy - these reactions in turn affect the decisions and budgets of government scientific agencies. In an internal memo, the EPA admits, with remarkable candor, "Our priorities . . . in regulating carcinogens appear . . . to be more closely aligned with public opinion than with our estimated risks" - and with scientific evidence. The simple fact is, we live in a radioactive world - always have, always will. Our bodies receive the impact of 15,000 radioactive particles every second; we don't feel them or suffer any ill effect from such bombardment. One of the difficult aspects of radiation phobia is that our ability to measure radiation has become so accurate and precise that it is now possible to detect unbelievably small amounts, for example, one part per billion. How much - or, rather, how little - is that? How can we visualize one part per billion? One way is by analogy - one part per billion is equivalent to one drop of vermouth in five railroad cars of gin! And what about one part per trillion? That would be one thousand times less. When radioactivity from the Chernobyl accident in the USSR in April 1986 reached the West Coast of the United States, the popular press warned residents about the dangers of possible fallout, speaking of the number of picocuries of radioactivity detected in the high clouds, without ever explaining that one picocurie is one part per trillion and to receive from that "Chernobyl cloud" as much radioactivity as a patient would get in a diagnostic test for thyroid problems, a person would have to drink 63,000 gallons of the "radioactive" rainwater - a formidable task. The current scare is about carbon dioxide build-up, and the "greenhouse effect." It is true that the concentration of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere has been increasing. It is also true that the rate of carbon dioxide increase (and methane, hydrocarbons, sulfur oxides, nitrogen oxides, and a few other substances) is now approximately 1 percent per year. Since increases of carbon dioxide have also occurred in the geological past, without the help of human industry, it is unclear whether the burning of fossil fuel is the cause of the present increase, however much it may be adding to the current totals. But this does not stop the doomsayers from hypothesizing radical climate transformations and other adverse effects in the future. In these areas of environmental concern (and in many others, including acid rain, the ozone layer, and pesticides), there is clearly a dichotomy between what is known and understood by the predominant body of scientific experts and what the public believes because of the information it gets. But what the public perceives to be true, even if it is wrong, has enormous consequences, since it is public opinion that determines how public funds are spent. The answer to this vexing problem of what the public believes is always the same: Educate the public. It seems so reasonable to conclude that once people understand how good and safe and environmentally benign a technology is, they will accept, if not welcome, it. It seems reasonable to expect the public to be grateful for techniques that can mean responsible cures for environmental problems. But clearly it doesn't work that way, because calm reason and alarmist environmentalism do not coexist. Also, how is the public going to know that the technology under consideration, like nuclear power, for example, is good and safe and environmentally benign? Will the public believe it on your say-so - or on mine (assuming, of course, that we have some way to communicate directly with the public)? The public is far more likely to believe the opponents of science and technology than to believe its supporters. If you are reluctant to accept that proposition, consider for a moment how you would fare on "60 Minutes" or "20/20" or "Crossfire" or any of the many television and radio programs in which controversial issues, even highly complex technical ones, are treated in an adversarial debate-like format, as if questions of scientific fact could be settled not by evidence, but by argument. In such a format, the opposition always "wins" because whoever is against any technology has only to make a charge, however preposterous; he doesn't have to prove it. The burden falls on the supporter of science to prove that the charge is groundless. It is a difficult situation, and it is the one that we tend to handle badly. There was a time when experts were believed. It was also a time of unprecedented increase in our knowledge about the world, of belief in ourselves, and in our ability through understanding and logic to provide adequate solutions to technical problems. It was a time of optimism and progress. It was a time of improvement in the conditions of living that made our society and our nation the envy of the world. It was a time when the use of knowledge was expected, when the myriad applications of science through technology made living on the earth easier and better, and gave us more time to enjoy it by increasing our life span beyond three quarters of a century. The funny thing is, it's still that kind of time - but it seems that hardly anyone enjoys it anymore. Too many have come to fear technology and to hate and reject anything nuclear or chemical-related. What has brought this condition about? Well, among other possible explanations, we have simply done a rotten job of teaching science. Oh, not to those students who will become scientists - we're quite good at that - but at the equally important job of teaching science to all those of the student population who will not enter science or engineering as a profession; there we fail miserably. And so, we must ask further, if not from the schools and colleges, where do most people get their information about science and technology in modern society? The answer is easy: mainly from television, and, to a lesser extent, from the print media and radio. Who decides the content of this information? Not scientists, but reporters, news directors, and editors. If we want people properly educated in science and therefore more competent to make rational decisions on technical matters that affect them, then we must learn more about the different worlds in which scientists and reporters live and work. We have to recognize that scientists, technologists, and engineers do not and cannot inform the public directly. The media inform the public. And in doing so, the media act as an information filter. The bottom line is that science and the media must learn to work together for a common purpose, because there is simply no other mechanism that can provide the necessary scientific information to society for social decision-making. So far, unfortunately, this rapport between science and the media shows no sign of developing. Consider the differences in the ways of working, of motivation, and of rewards for scientists and for reporters. For scientists, the volume of work is far less important than the quality. Scientists work at their own pace; there is no intractable daily or weekly deadline. Scientists work within a well-recognized discipline that is only a small part of the scientific whole. A scientist's work is judged by his peers, and unless peer approved, it won't be published. For a scientist, all funding and professional advancement is based on peer-reviewed work. For all of these reasons, therefore, scientists are very careful about making claims. Those who value their standing in the peer community will be cautious not to overstate, and feel compelled to provide context for what they say. This is often interpreted by the nonscientific community as uncertainty, doubt, hedging, or even as evidence of disagreement among scientists. In the media, however, a reporter's key to advancement is the volume of his work, maximizing minutes of air time or inches of print. For the reporter, deadlines are externally imposed, are short, and must be met. Narrow disciplines in journalism are nonexistent; a reporter must cover them all. A reporter's work is judged not by his peers, but by an editor or news director and what attracts attention is of paramount importance. Good reporting is compact, without space for qualifications and context. There could hardly be two more diverse professions, and it is no wonder that misunderstanding and misrepresentation arise. The good scientist strives to be precise by qualifying his statements and staying within the context of a scientific discipline. The good reporter strives for a fast response, for a compact statement that is reasonably accurate. Above all, a good reporter makes his statement in a manner designed to make the greatest impact on the audience. Therefore, information flowing from the scientific environment to the media environment inevitably suffers alteration and filtration, and this affects public perceptions. In this regard, there appear to be three main problems: An understandable, though unfortunate, emphasis on conflict between technology and social interest makes good press, but often unnecessarily heightens anxiety. The public will accept bad news, but it has been conditioned to reject good news as whitewash. The persistence of false, exaggerated, or misleading information is made believable by constant repetition. This leads to dissemination of beliefs that have no evidence to support them, such as "PCBs cause cancer," "any level of radiation is harmful," and "acid rain is caused by sulfur dioxide from burning coal." Some of these come about from the mistaken assumption that if two phenomena occur together or follow one another, they must represent cause-and-effect. Some come from an initial distorted opinion of a scientist desiring publicity for a cause or political position or from a zealous reporter trying to make a name for himself. Since good scientists limit their remarks within disciplinary boundaries, and good reporters extrapolate into a broad or common context, the result is often misrepresentation. "I was misquoted," says the scientist - and vows never to talk to a reporter again. Such a reaction is a mistake because it leaves the responsibility of communication with the media to those scientists who avoid peer review for their work, have a mission or "cause," or are charlatans or quacks. Science has its quota of the latter just as does every profession. It is up to good scientists to weed these phonies out, but we don't do it. While the respected scientific community judges very strictly those at the top of their profession, they simply ignore the incompetents and no-goods at the bottom. Until respected scientists, perhaps through their professional societies or through the National Academy of Science, identify the purveyors of misrepresentation, we have only ourselves to blame for fear, misunderstanding, and the rejection of technology. We should be very jealous of who speaks for science, particularly in our age of rapidly expanding technology. A misinformed or uninformed public can stop anything even when it is clearly to society's benefit. How can the public be educated? I do not know the specifics, but of this I am certain: The public will remain uninformed and uneducated in science until the media professionals decide otherwise, until they stop quoting charlatans and quacks, and until respected scientists speak up. Dixy Lee Ray is the former chairperson of the Atomic Energy Commission and was governor of Washington from 1977 to 1981. This essay is reprinted with the permission of Imprimis, a journal of Hillsdale College, Hillsdale, Mich.

Who's To Blame When The Public Misunderstands Science?

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