Bruce Lewenstein: Science communication is part of a researcher’s job

For the past 17 years, Professor Bruce V. Lewenstein has taught workshops in science communication to graduate students. Since the first class, he has asked the same question at the beginning of the course: “How many of you would be scared if your advisors knew you were here today?” In that first class, half the room raised their hands. In the most recent class, not even a finger was raised.

Lewenstein likes to recount this anecdote to illustrate how much science communication has changed. “Older people like me have a more rigid view of science. But when I talk to students, they already know that communicating science will be part of their job as scientists,” he notes.

In an article published in August in the Journal of Science Communication (JCOM), Lewenstein reflects on the importance, acceptance, and biggest challenges of seeking diverse voices within science communication. “Some of the ways we think about diversity challenge what science is,” he says.

In an interview with Science Arena, Lewenstein—who is also an ombudsman at Cornell University—highlights the main difficulties that science communicators face when seeking more diversity in their work, as well as examples he has compiled during his research on the subject.

Science Arena – In an article recently published in JCOM, you say that diversity in science communication is complicated. What are these complications?

Bruce Lewenstein – Firstly, and most importantly, diversity is fundamental. One of the crucial things we have to recognize is that a lot of our science communication has excluded people or doesn’t recognize the cultural forces that shape them, mirroring all the other biases we have in society. So, paying attention to diversity is something we need to do to improve.

The challenge arises because some of the ways we think about diversity challenge what science is. In particular, we think of science as a way of producing reliable knowledge about the natural world. But who decides what is reliable, what is reasonable? And what happens when one of these ways of promoting diversity challenges these ideas about what is reliable?

Can you give some examples?

One is the work of anthropologist Lea Taragin-Zeller in Israel. She and her colleague worked with an ultra-religious community. People there don’t follow the mainstream media, most of them go only to elementary school, they don’t go to high school, and they don’t have much scientific knowledge. But there is a small group of people who work as “translators.” They are basically science communicators that provide the community with health information.

On the one hand, it’s great. These are people they can talk to. But on the other hand, Taragin-Zeller and her team found that the translators left out information that conflicted with the community’s religious beliefs. So, if you believe that God created the world in seven days, and you’re trying to talk about bacterial resistance to antibiotics through evolution, that’s a problem, because evolution doesn’t fit in there.

The communicators warn against the use of antibiotics, but they don’t explain why. This particular religious group is male dominated. Therefore, findings by women scientists are ignored, they don’t talk about them. When there are scientific data and parts of history that don’t align with the religion, they [the “translators”] don’t mention it.

The question is: what are we doing when we communicate science? Are we trying to communicate certain facts and, if they’re not essential, we simply ignore their existence? Or are we trying to pass on ideas from a Western system that we feel we have a commitment to disseminate, and therefore it’s wrong to leave things out?

The same thing happens when we discuss traditional Indigenous knowledge about ecology. We know that these communities have tremendous knowledge about different ways to treat diseases, but usually the “scientific world” extracts that knowledge, applies molecular biology, extracts genes, and makes medication. It’s a very exploitative process.

What can we do about this?

As communicators, we know that we must work with communities and respect their cultural beliefs. But how can we help them benefit from this knowledge and be recognized by Western science when we may be contributing to the exploitation they already suffer?

It’s difficult, and I want to be very clear: I don’t have the answers to these problems. But I want us as communicators to recognize that these problems exist, that they are real, and that we need to think about them.

Is disseminating science in the native languages of non-English speaking countries a way to decolonize access to science?

We know that this is necessary for several reasons. First of all, not everyone speaks English. So, to reach these people, we have to speak in other languages, even within the United States, where 12% of the population is native Spanish speakers. And then we have to be careful, because some direct translations don’t work.

There are ideas and knowledge intrinsic to the local language that we can’t simply translate into English, Spanish, or Portuguese.

I like the French example: they call science communication “culture scientifique” (scientific culture). If I translate it into English, it doesn’t mean the same thing. In French, it means that culture is permeated by science.

In Spanish, the word “divulgación” doesn’t convey the idea of culture depending on science. I think there are some ways in Spanish and Portuguese of conveying that idea, but the commonly used word of “divulgación” (or “divulgação”, in Portuguese) doesn’t have the idea.

Another problem is that in many countries the people who speak English and have access to quality information in English are the elites. If we only provide information in English, we increase social inequality, because elites have more access to information than people who don’t speak English.

Anti-science groups are also an obstacle. How do you talk to deniers?

The hardest thing is that we have to be humble. We have to deal with the fact that we may not have the answers, and that social networks and traditional media may not be the right way to get the word out. We have to go into these communities and listen to them, ask them why they don’t believe in vaccines and what their concerns are.

In the United States, African American communities have good reason to be weary of medical corporations because of historical racism and the horrible things that have been done to Black people. So, they may not want a needle in their arm, and they have no reason to trust the companies.

Observing these communities allows us to understand their motivations and think of other ways forward. Perhaps the answer is: “Okay, don’t get vaccinated, but then don’t leave your house.” We can think of options.

But we have to build trust; it’s not enough to just disseminate information on the TV, radio, or the internet. The scientific community must invest in understanding this community.

It’s not enough to allocate 2% of the budget to communication. We need resources, both money and people, for science communication. It’s not a cheap or simple solution, it requires a lot of work.

There is a certain stereotype of scientists as cisgender white males. How can we deconstruct this image?

We have to be very conscious and look for new faces in science. We need to seek out women, Black people, people of different sexualities. Some stand out and show that they are different. They make a point of showing that they are a minority in science. We need to give these people a stage, interview them, put them on social media. We need to not just ask them what it’s like to be a minority in science but let them talk about the science they actually practice.

As journalists, we may wonder who the best source is. It’s very common to look for the department head or the person who has published the most on the subject, but sometimes someone in a lower position, who is part of a minority, is able to give an interview.

We assume that the boss and the person who publishes the most is the one who knows the most, but sometimes there’s someone else who is also hands-on who can speak on the subject. What are we looking for in an expert? Do we want the person who came up with the idea, or the person who is in the lab doing the actual research? Maybe that researcher’s story is worth telling. This might be hard to apply in hard news cases, in big newsrooms, but it’s an exercise.

There’s a journalist named Ed Yong who, in 2018, wrote an article in The Atlantic about his experience trying to increase the diversity of his sources. He realized that he was quoting a lot more men than women, so he created a system, made a source spreadsheet, actively sought them out—which took a lot of work.

Later, he wrote another article questioning what his mission was and what he expected as a science reporter. Did he want to simply explain the science itself, or tell relevant stories to the public? It was an important piece of self-examination.

There is a lot of scientific dissemination taking place on social media. What role do social networks play in broadening the diversity of voices? How have they changed the way science is communicated?

The good thing is that they have allowed for greater diversity. People from small institutions, people who don’t have access to large news networks now have access to information about science and answers to some questions that may arise.

But this is where the issue of diversity gets complicated because there are no filters. There are no professionals like reporters, editors, museum directors, public health officials filtering this information; it’s just posted on social networks, so it’s very difficult to discern what’s good and what’s bad.

Scientists need to commit to communicating in the local language, helping to explain why some information is more reliable than others and how people can judge the reliability of this information.

When you see something on social media, how do you know if you can believe it or not? Just because several of your friends have shared it doesn’t mean it’s reliable information. We know that people share things they don’t agree with, so we have to better understand behavior on social networks and how they are used.

Scientists have to understand what happens on social media and this is a long learning process. There’s no way to fight social media, we know that people get their information there.

Many young people on TikTok produce content about science. Are the younger generations more tolerant and more willing to accept diversity in science?

I don’t spend much time [on TikTok], but I have seen some of this content and I think it’s great. They’re very creative. I think there’s a generational change. Older people like me have a more rigid view of science and, in some cases, are more reluctant to talk to the press. But when I talk to students, people in their twenties and thirties, they already know that communicating science is going to be part of their job as scientists. They are looking for courses on the subject, on how to communicate.

How are you involved in training these young scientists?

I teach a weekend course every semester, a science communication workshop, for graduate students. It’s a very introductory course. The first time I offered the course, 17 years ago, I asked my students how they found out about the course, whether it was a pamphlet or by email or a referral by their advisor.

Half of the hands went up, which I thought was a good thing. Then I asked: “How many of you would be scared if your advisors found out you were here today?” And the other half of the class raised their hands. So, I started asking this question at every course.

Seventeen years later, out of more than 20 students, hardly any raise their hands when asked this second question. Some say their advisor doesn’t care, but all of the advisors agree that their students should learn how to communicate science. Young scientists are thinking about science communication and how to communicate, which is great. I’m very happy to see this change.

This article is republished from Science Arena under the CC-BY-NC-ND Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Letícia Naísa

A science journalism specialist from Unicamp, with experience in major Brazilian newsrooms, covering science, health, culture, and technology. She graduated in journalism from PUC-SP, interned at Veja magazine, and worked as a reporter for VICE Brasil, Folha de S.Paulo, and Exame, among others. She has covered a wide range of topics, including health, politics, and behavior, with extensive experience in science and health journalism.

• Letícia Naísa

  https://civicsciencemedia.org/author/leticia-naisa/

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