News | Spheres of Influence

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News | Spheres of Influence

A 548

gapThe Disconnect BetweenWhat Scientists Sayand What the Public Hears

communication

J a m e s E n d i c o t t / C o r b i s



Spheres of Influence | Communication Gap

A 549

M ojib Latif probably didn’t

anticipate the public reac-

tion his research would attract lastyear. Writing in the 1 May 2008

issue of Nature , he and his col-

leagues from the Leibniz Institute

of Marine Sciences and the Max

Planck Institute in Kiel, Germany,

predicted that increases in mean

global temperatures could pause

into the next decade, even though

greenhouse gas levels were still ris-

ing in the atmosphere. That lull

in warming, their models showed,

was temporary, and due to com-plex interactions between the

atmosphere and periodic cooling

cycles in the oceans.

A meteorologist and oceanog-

rapher, Latif emphasized that these

cyclical variations could occur even

in the face of long-term climate

trends. But to his surprise, skeptics

seized on the findings as evidence



that mean global temperatures aren’treally rising. The website newsbusters.org,for instance, which bills itself as “dedi-cated to documenting, exposing, andneutralizing liberal media bias,” com-pared Latif’s findings to “the Popesuddenly [announcing] the CatholicChurch had been wrong for centuries

about prohibiting priests from mar-rying.” To Latif, the implication thatclimate change is a hoax was preposter-ous. “Making inferences about global

warming from my short-term climateprediction is like comparing apples andoranges,” he says.

Latif was caught in a familiar mediatrap. Research often delivers statistically nuanced findings that the lay public as well as journalists and other science com-municators can find hard to understand. And just as political messages can betwisted into snippets of misinformation,scientific findings, too, are vulnerable todistortions and misrepresentations thatstick in the public mind, especially if they fit ideologic biases.

These distortions are becoming all toocommon in today’s new media environ-ment. Although the World Wide Weboffers invaluable access to information,it also gives an audience to anyone withan ax to grind. According to a commen-tary in the June 2009 issue of Nature Biotechnology authored by 24 experts incommunication, law, and journalism,media fragmentation and the rise of ideo-logically slanted websites are perpetuating

gridlocked opinions in science, just asthey are in politics.

One of those authors is Matthew Nisbet, an assistant professor of com-munication at American University in Washington, DC. He says people whoaren’t inclined to pay close attention to anissue will learn about it from media outletsthat reinforce their own social, political,or religious views. This and other types of “mental shortcuts,” he says, make it pos-sible for individuals to draw quick conclu-sions about complex topics that fit theirown preconceptions.

Given these trends, communica-tion experts are calling for fundamentalchanges in how scientists interact withthe media because debates over climatechange, health, energy, and technology are simply too important to lose to mis-information. As always, scientists areencouraged to communicate clearly usinglanguage that nonspecialists can under-stand. But now they’re also being urgedto step beyond the confines of the labo-ratory and to become more engaged inefforts to educate the public.

“The ultimate goal [in science com-munication],” says Nisbet, “is civic edu-cation—enabling and motivating morepeople into thinking, talking, and par-ticipating in collective decisions about,for example, what to do about climatechange, or how to fund and oversee bio-technology.” Scientists need to some-

how communicate scientific uncertainties while going head-to-head against over-simplified inaccuracies in the media. Thequestion is how best to do that.

Reworking the Angle

Nisbet in particular seeks to movebeyond the traditional “deficit model”that currently dominates science com-munication. The deficit model assumesthat if nonspecialists only understood thescientific facts, they would see eye-to-eye with the experts. Ignorance is whatdrives controversies in science, the modelpostulates. And by filling that deficit

with knowledge, scientists can help makethese controversies disappear.

But does that assumption really hold true? Not necessarily, Nisbet says.Disputes over climate change, for instance,remain strong despite the sustained effortsof scientists to communicate about theissue through the media. An October2009 survey by the Pew Research Centerfor the People & the Press suggests publicopinions about climate change line upmore on political than scientific grounds.

According to that survey, 75% of Democrats see solid evidence that the

average temperature on Earth has beengetting warmer over the past few decades,compared with just 35% of Republicans.That disparity, Nisbet says, reflects oppos-ing media influences geared toward theirrespective audiences. Both Republicansand Democrats tend to rely on news out-lets that affirm their own social values, hesays. And those outlets—together withinput from like-minded friends and col-leagues—can be more influential than thescience itself.

Tellingly, the Pew survey also indi-cates that, compared with survey respons-

es from April 2008, 8% fewer Democratsand 14% fewer Republicans reported see-ing solid evidence of warming, whichsuggests confidence in the research isdeclining across party lines. The survey-ors do not comment, however, on thereasons for that decline or whether itmight reflect contradictory coverage of climate change in the press.

Nisbet is well known for his researchon framing, or defining scientific issuesin ways that audiences can understandin part by appealing to their core values.

Climate change skeptics already do thissuccessfully by predicting economic doomfrom curbing greenhouse gas emissions,he says. “You need to use metaphors andnarratives that make the issue personally relevant,” Nisbet explains. “It’s got to beunderstandable and interesting to audi-ences that don’t understand the technical

details.”Teaming with evangelical leadershas enabled some scientists to frame cli-mate change in terms of religious moral-ity, which helps to engage conservativeChristians on the issue. Among themare Eric Chivian, director of the Centerfor Health and the Global Environmentat the Harvard Medical School, andRichard Cizik, founder and president of the recently formed New Evangelicals, who famously joined forces in 2007 toeducate law makers and the public aboutenvironmental threats. Cizik is quoted inthe 18 November 2009 online edition of the U.K. Guardian as saying that youngergenerations of evangelicals in particular“have an intensity level that even some inthe environmental community don’t have.They believe [environmental stewardship]is their God-given calling.”

But Sharon Dunwoody, a professorof journalism and mass communicationat the University of Wisconsin–Madison,cautions that frames might be labeled asspin by audiences who feel they’re beingmanipulated. A climate change activist,for instance, might think it’s effective toframe climate change in terms of dying

polar bears. But a skeptic who doesn’tthink polar bears are at risk from climatechange might feel manipulated by thatframe and view it as spin.

To that, Nisbet says, “‘Spin’ is a prob-lematic term since people use it in mul-tiple ways and really never define whatthey mean by it. They usually just throw it out there as a way to express criticism without actually explaining what theircriticism might be, or what their pre-ferred alternative is.”

Maintaining Credibility

Framing can pose other tough chal-lenges for scientists; it requires them toknow and understand what elements

will engage a given target audience. Andthat begs insights into human naturethat might not come readily to thosemore comfortable with data. Nisbet saystalking points for use in framing canbe obtained from research techniquesfamiliar to social sciences research, suchas interviews, focus groups, and surveys.Results from these investigations canbe translated into practical advice for

A 550 volume 117 | number 12 | December 2009 • Environmental Health Perspectives




scientists who interact with differentaudiences via media formats such as weband video, he says.

Earl Holland, assistant vice presi-dent for research communications at TheOhio State University, argues that scien-tists are preoccupied with the day-to-day grinds of publishing and research, and

therefore shouldn’t be obliged to con-sider public perceptions of their work soexplicitly. He suggests, moreover, thatthose activities might compromise a sci-entist’s integrity.

Scientists often have the trust of thepublic going for them—they’re typically held in high esteem, Holland says. Whatelevates scientists over those who spreadmisinformation, he explains, is cred-ibility, and that credibility lies in part onthe notion that scientists make impartial judgments based on data. But when they align themselves with a particular side ina debate, that impartiality is put to thetest, he says.

“As soon as scientists take up anadvocacy role, regardless of the positionor topic, they lose credibility as unbiasedsources,” Holland asserts. “Some say that’s too much to ask, but I say that justlike journalists have to rein in their ownpolitical beliefs when reporting, scientistshave to avoid catering to policy argu-ments. They’re still highly regarded, butif they just get in there and punch it out with their opponents, they risk losingintegrity.”

Holland’s view is that university news

offices and what he describes as “sup-port networks for the scientific commu-nity” bear responsibility for couchinghow research findings enter into policy debates—not the scientists themselves.That’s not a universal view, however;many scientists see no problem withadvocacy, as long as it’s guided by exper-tise and experience.

Bruce Lanphear, a professor atBC Children’s Hospital and SimonFraser University in Vancouver, BritishColumbia, says debates over whether sci-entists should get involved in policy are

mostly semantic. “There’s a certain schoolof thought that our job as epidemiolo-gists is simply to report results in journals while others translate those findings forthe public—I don’t subscribe to that,”he says. “I view my job as also helping totranslate findings in ways that don’t mis-lead the public but that also help peopleunderstand why something is important.”

Lanphear is best known for researchthat links low-dose exposure to lead andother toxicants to developmental effectsin children. As a medical doctor, he says

his efforts to raise awareness about indus-trial toxicants in commerce are consistent with the Hippocratic Oath. “Activism is adirect extension of what I was trained todo as a doctor,” he says. “I feel an obliga-tion to present data in ways that preventdangerous exposures in the population.”

Lanphear appears unfazed by charges

of alarmism, and he acknowledges thereremain many unanswered toxicologicquestions about lead, pesticides, andother chemicals. But their known risksalso compel regulatory changes to mini-mize exposure, he says. In communicatingabout low-dose chemical risks, Lanphearaims to create a sense of urgency, whichhe says is a prerequisite to environmentallegislation.

“That’s what it comes down to:community outrage,” Lanphear says. “Weknew lead was toxic as far back as 1909. Why did it take so long to restrict how we use it? Because of inertia, lobbyists,and the tax revenues it was generating.It took outrage and lawsuits to move thelegislation. A sense of urgency holds feetto the fire.”

Aiming for Clarity

People might look to science for clear-cutstatements that can help them make deci-sions about their health and lifestyle, saysLouis Guillette, Jr., a professor of biology at the University of Florida at Gainesville.But fields such as climate research, genom-ics, and toxicology are all grappling withenormous data sets and models that gen-

erate probabilistic instead of definitivefindings. Most genetic tests, for instance,can’t accurately predict if someone will geta disease; they can only suggest that some-one has perhaps a 15% chance of gettingthe disease under certain environmen-tal conditions. Likewise, climate modelscan simulate temperature changes, butthey can’t predict exactly where or whenimpacts will occur.

Individuals looking for clarity withrespect to environmental threats might want a scientist to say, for instance, thata chemical will cause a specific effect at

a precise real-world dose, but laboratory experiments don’t allow for that, addsGuillette. Instead, experiments deliber-ately exclude confounding factors suchas age, sex, or hormonal status to isolatea single variable’s effect on a particularoutcome. In the real world, these variables work simultaneously, along with a hostof other chemical exposures, to produceeffects that vary by individual.

It’s important to provide the public with a baseline context for understand-ing what’s meant by “risk,” experts say.

For instance, it’s meaningless to say thatfamily history of a disease makes a per-son 10 times more likely to succumb tothat disease. It is clearer to say that if 1 in 100,000 people in the general popu-lation has the disease, then family history increases the risk to 1 in 10,000. Thatstill may be a noteworthy difference—but

perhaps not cause for undue alarm.It’s also important to specify whatgroups are being compared when talkingabout changes in risk so it’s clear whetherthose changes are being described inabsolute or relative terms. For example,consider preeclampsia, which affects anestimated 4% of pregnancies. If an envi-ronmental exposure increases the absoluterisk of preeclampsia by 30%, that wouldmean going from 4% to 34%. In con-trast, a relative increase of 30% wouldmean going from 4% to 5.2%.

All these statistical details makeit impossible for scientists to speak inabsolutes, so they communicate insteadin terms of statistical probabilities thatideally apply under most real-world sce-narios. Scientists take these nuances forgranted, but they make a world of differ-ence to anyone who has to intepret whatnew findings mean on a practical level.That’s an essential issue, because researchmust somehow reconcile data with soci-ety’s desire for clarity on scientific issues.

Joann Rodgers, senior advisor for sci-ence, crisis, and executive communica-tions at Johns Hopkins Medicine andpast president of the National Association

of Science Writers, says environmentalhealth findings are particularly hard toconvey because, in addition to their com-plexity, they evoke emotional respons-es; climate change, pollution, and many other environmental threats affect mil-lions of people. “Environmental issuesgive rise to a lot of activism,” Rodgerssays. “We tend to see that also in otherfields, but there seems to be an extra-ordinary dose of mythologizing and rant-ing about science in the environmentalhealth realm.”

Dunwoody emphasizes that, as sources

in the media, scientists get to decide whatthey’re going to say. But she adds they should also be insightful about how thosemessages are received, given the needto dispel misinformation in the publicarena. “The way you portray somethingdictates the take-home messages people walk away with,” she says. “You’ve got tobe careful.”

Charles W. Schmidt, MS, of Portland, Maine, has writtenfor Discover Magazine, Science, and Nature Medicine. In2002 he won the National Association of Science Writers’Science-in-Society Journalism Award.

Environmental Health Perspectives • volume 117 | number 12 | December 2009 A 551


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