Reaching across the Endless FrontierP U B L I S H E R ' S C O R N E R
By MAXINE F. SINGER
VANNEVAR
BUSH'S ENDURING METAPHOR for science implies both a frontier space and a
border. The space behind the endless
frontier, like the regions behind geographical frontiers, is filled with people whose
perspectives are vastly different from those prevailing within the frontier community. Some
scientists like to ignore this unfamiliar place; working scientists sometimes use their activities
to insulate themselves not only from issues outside their community but even from troubles
within it. Perhaps this is a propitious time to try to understand the relationship between the
frontier and the complex currents moving behind it.
There is a major discontinuity between scientists' views of the natural world and those held by
even relatively well-educated segments of the non-scientific public. Basic conceptual
differences plague scientists efforts to share the implications of their findings. To give you a
well-known example, many people don't know the difference between astrology and astronomy--or
even that there is a difference.
At the same time, scientists hope to give the general public of the future an improved
understanding of science and the nature of its findings, so the public will be better able to
confront future scientific issues as they affect personal, social, and political decisions. Less
altruistic but no less important is the hope that with better understanding of science, public
commitment to its support will be sustained, if not increased. The disparity between our
end-of-century scientific knowledge and the public reception of that information has yielded
some regrettable policy decisions. Often the critical debates leave the actual science out of
serious consideration. In such a situation it is not unfair for the public to question its
investment in frontier research. If the public intends to ignore scientific knowledge, it could
save a lot of money by cutting the frontier off. It is essential, then, to ask why the public
ignores scientific findings. Many scientists would answer with demeaning remarks about the
populace's ignorance. Others, more sympathetic and engaged, are truly frustrated upon
learning that many people actually believe in the predictive powers of astrology or are
unwilling to recognize the fact of biological evolution. Such resistance is not confined to any
particular segment of society; a video made at a recent Harvard commencement showed that many of the
graduates had no idea why spring and summer on Earth are followed by fall and winter.
Some scientists conclude from such observations that the public is not only poorly informed
but uninterested in changing, and then wash their hands of responsibility. Others are
beginning to realize that scientists themselves bear much of the blame for these circumstances.
And many scientists are now quite willing to talk with the press and write for the
non-scientific public. In spite of all this activity, however, we are not doing well. The books
get excellent reviews but don't sell many copies. Blockbusters like Stephen
Hawking's Brief
History of Time sell copies but remain unread on coffee tables around the world.
More often than not, we fail to communicate. We need to change the way we talk to the
public. In the lab, if one experimental approach doesn't work, we try others. We need to
experiment with new ways of communicating.
Some experiments have already been carried out. One, demonstrating the difficulties inherent
in making policy in the face of uncertainty, involves the circumstantial evidence connecting
some British cases of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease to meat
(that is, muscle, but possibly contaminated with nerve tissue) from animals with bovine spongiform encephalopathy.
No data were made available with the initial announcement; no new observations were
published in scientific journals; the government's initial reactions were aimed at reassuring the
public. Needless to say, fear and panic followed. Data from a scientific review committee were
held back, thus adding to the suspicions, though none of the available data suggested an
epidemic. As a consequence of the mishandling, millions of people worldwide believe in a
causal relation between beef products (even milk, though there has never been evidence that it
could be dangerous) and a dreadful disease. Rather than reassuring anyone, by failing to
discuss the situation straightforwardly the British government fostered panic that came back
to haunt it.
Communication can also fail even when the science is clear. The
role of chlorfluorocarbons in the atmospheric ozone hole has
been established since the 1970s. Data showing how chlorine released from CFCs destroys
ozone, and correlating atmospheric CFC accumulation with Antarctic ozone
disappearance, convinced 70 nations to eliminate CFC production by the year 2000.
One U.S. Congress actually shortened our national elimination timetable by five years. Yet
the same week the researchers involved received the Nobel for chemistry,
another Congress held hearings to consider delaying the ban on CFC production.
Congressional discussion denied the scientific consensus not because it was wrong but because
it was contrary to the political ends some members desired. One reaction to this is to rail
against 'politics,' but another is to ask why scientific considerations were less convincing than
political considerations. The challenge is to find new ways to convey the science so that it is
not so easy to ignore.
Biologist Tom
Lovejoy has been shepherding government officials on trips to the Amazon. They return with a new understanding
and commitment to the preservation of tropical rain forests in particular and the environment
in general. Lovejoy's success makes news stories: Secretary of State Warren Christopher now
counts environmental concerns among national security issues. Still, opposition persists in the
State Department, as summarized by a quote from Tim Wirth: "Real men don't do
environment."
The amazing, 40-year-long support for biological research embodied in the history of the National Institutes of Health reflects both a
well-organized lobbying effort and the national desire to improve health care. The results
speak for themselves. But practical benefits can't be the whole story. Anyone who has looked
at the sky has wondered about the nature of the universe. Astronomy may be a sophisticated
science, but its subject is in everyone's experience; with minimal practical implications, it
captures people's imagination and attracts a remarkable flow of both public and private funds.
Some things are not part of everyday experience, but they could be. No book or talk can
match the experience a non-scientist gets from being invited into a lab to see what's there, to
ask questions, to see real people working at real stuff. Why don't we invite the public in more
often, as Lovejoy invites people to the Amazon?
Another thing we could do is stop speaking with certainty about uncertain things. We do not
do this among ourselves; it is both disrespectful and ill-advised to do so to non-scientists. The
idea of probabilities is not broadly understood, but it could be if we made the effort to explain
it. If the public does not understand probability and thus risk, it is our job to teach, not wring
our hands over ignorance.
In the face of uncertainty, we have to be honest and outspoken. Too many people have
experienced science only in dogmatic classes that present a body of unassailable facts. We
know better. Everyone should. When the pertinent available facts are insufficient to support a
firm conclusion, and policy must nevertheless be made, we should stop presenting opposing
views as either/or options and stop waffling about holes in scientific knowledge. We should
point out that scientific disagreements indicate uncertainty and that in the end, neither view
or perhaps even both may be correct. We should not let political pressures back us into
scientifically indefensible corners.
Still, some challenges really seem impossible. We have problems when a scientific conclusion
is relatively firm but is contrary to desired political ends. Making the scientific conclusion the
desired political end, rather than slinking off disgruntled, should be our challenge. Otherwise,
we are acquiescing to the continuation of a process that leads to irrational policy. We
have not used well our talents to convey the extraordinary expertise and the amazing things
we have learned about the world. The ignorance behind the frontier is our responsibility as
scientists; no one will know what we are doing if we don't find ways to tell them.
MAXINE F. SINGER, Ph.D., is president of the Carnegie Institution of
Washington, D.C. This article is adapted with permission from her 1996 William Carey
Lecture to the Colloquium on Science and Technology Policy of the American Association for the Advancement of Science;
the full text of this address will appear in AAAS Science and Technology Policy
Yearbook, 1996 (Washington, DC: AAAS, 1996).
