Message in a bottle

     Now that I've gotten your hopes up about the prospect of me writing something fascinating and sending it out to sea with nothing but a thin layer of glass to protect it from the world, I have to let you down. I haven't put a message into a bottle, and I certainly haven't thrown a bottle into the sea (thanks for nothing, landlocked Ohio!). In fact, I haven't even written a message (though I did type one).

     For the final meeting of this seminar focused on effective communication of science to the public, we are using the concept of the message box to distill our work into a format that is easy to communicate. We are encouraged to think inside the box, where our thoughts are rigidly confined, sorted, and limited by space. While all of this sounds fairly negative, it seems that these restrictions are essential for scientists to effectively communicate with the public. The message box forces scientists to sort whatever it is they are trying to say into a few key areas. The issue is similar to the title of a scientific paper or newspaper article, and serves as the floor of the box. Perhaps the most important of the four walls is the so what? section, where scientists have to justify why anyone should even care about their work. Two opposing walls problems and solutions, help set the stage for the results and provide an outlook for the future, respectively. The last wall, benefits relates to the so what? wall by showing how the solutions can relate to the public.

     I struggled to complete my own message box for a few reasons. 1) I don't really have a complete research program in place yet. I've completed a few projects that are distantly related, and only two of them are even connected to my proposed dissertation work. This puts me in an awkward position, as I'm not sure I have a message yet, let alone one that can fit nicely into a box. 2) My research is not very applicable to people in general. Yes, I could use the findings from my work to generalize to all ecosystems, but that amounts to hand waving and straw grasping, neither of which make me terrible comfortable. While the organisms I study do occur in agricultural fields, my research focus is not applied to crop production or pest suppression. 3) Perhaps most importantly, I felt that the message box template was designed for researchers who work with real problems: global warming, epidemics, habitat loss, fishery collapse, cancer, the end of the world, and so on. It would have been nice to see an example from someone who works on something more mundane, or at least less directly applied to human welfare.

     I started to wonder if these examples were chosen simply because these are the ones that scientists want to communicate to the public. There certainly would be a bias toward reporting these kinds of messages to the public, but I don't think that means scientists studying in other fields should give up. Sure, someone who discovers that a species of amphipod communicates by releasing pheromones from its eyes might get a high-profile publication in a scientific journal, but will the public care? I like to think that people are fundamentally curious about the world and what scientists do to learn about it, but I don't think all research fields are equally interesting for a general audience. Hopefully this hasn't come off too negatively; I just don't see myself being interviewed for an article in the New York Times about my current research.

I'll just have to wait until I start a post-doc in microscopic extraterrestrial spider volcanoes, or something...

Fun science word of the day

     Science terms are renown for being cumbersome, confusing, and gratuitous. Certain scientists use these terms to separate themselves from the public and those who they consider lesser scientists. For example, I could describe my research in one of two ways:

1. I study spiders and how they affect the environment by eating things

2. I study generalist arthropod predators of the family lycosidae and how predator identity, defined by habitat mode and hunting domain, creates emergent multiple predator effects that cascade via trait- and density-mediated direct and indirect effects to regulate the detritivore food web

     See what I did there? But this post is not about the dangers of over-obscuring your work with fancy words. Instead I want to highlight a single science term I recently learned from one of my current students: conglobation. First off, I think it's a really neat looking word and it sounds cool. Call me silly, but those are important characteristics for a word to have. Here's the definition of conglobate, the root of the word:

1) adjective: formed into a ball 2) verb: to collect or form into a ball or rounded mass

Now, I came across this word in a project proposal about Armadillidium vulgare, the common isopod, or pill bug, or rolly-polly.

     These little guys are capable of conglobation, which has been shown to protect them from predators and water loss. After all, they are crustaceans, which evolved in the water and breathe air through special gills. These gills need to be moist to work, so conserving water is therefore important while living on the land. This is why isopods are typically found under logs or in other shaded, wet areas. Furthermore, when they are found in dry areas, they are frequently conglobated while they wait for more favorable conditions.

     One must wonder what it is like during conglobation. The isopod has all of its legs and underparts jammed against each other, with the opposite ends of its digestive tract in intimate proximity. The eyes and antennae are completely wrapped up in the rest of the body, so their sensory world basically disappears. There's nothing comparable in human biology, short of placing yourself in a sensory deprivation tank.

     As someone who studies animal behavior, I am always aware of the dangers associated with anthropomorphizing (ascribing human intentions to the decisions of other animals). That said, I wonder what these isopods think about while curled up. Do they review their day or plan for the future? Is conglobation unpleasant, or is it something they look forward to? What would human culture be like if conglobation was a regular part of our lives?

They Might Be Effective Communicators of Science to the Public

     This week I'm reviewing the album “HereComes Science” by They Might Be Giants. For those of you who have not heard of this band, for shame! They've been around for over 20 years and have created tons of great songs, some of which you know, even if you don't know it. More recently, they've taken on the world of children's music with their albums “HereComes The ABCs” and “Here Comes The 123s”. Their latest album in this genre tackles the issue of communicating science with the public by trying to reach young people through music, so let's see how they do.

Track 1 - Science Is Real

     Starting off strong, topics in science (the big bang, DNA, evolution) are contrasted with unicorns, elves, and angels. The poke at religion here is quite subtle, but certainly intentional. However, this isn't meant as a malicious atheistic attack, but rather as a way to show children the proper place for science. Science is used to gain knowledge about the world, whereas the other subjects are entertaining stories from which facts cannot be found.

     They do a decent job approaching the topic of a scientific theory, but ultimately fall short. Yes, a theory is more than a guess, and yes, a theory has survived numerous tests, but no, science cannot be used to prove anything. Theories, no matter how strongly supported, can always be toppled by new information, especially when that information comes to light after new technology has been invented to allow new questions to be asked. Track 10 actually illustrates this point well.

Track 2 - Meet The Elements

     Here we explore some basic chemistry and the idea of how elements combine to make new substances. I think this song would help to take an abstract concept, elements, and make it more tangible to young minds. The tie-in with biology (we're mostly made of four elements) is nice, and the simile with the box of paints simplifies the ideas without completely obscuring them. I could see kids getting excited about checking out the periodic table after memorizing this song. (My understanding of children and music is that songs will be repeated, at their demand, until everyone has memorized them, whether they want to or not.)

Track 3 - I Am A Paleontologist

     Children and creationists are similar in their passion for dinosaurs and lack of critical thinking skills. Fortunately, it's not too late to save our children. This song introduces the idea of form fitting function, which is a basic concept we try to teach at the college level. If today's children are anything like me, they'll be excited to hear the names of dinosaurs in the song, and work hard to learn them. They even included the dinosaur I was most proud to remember as a kid, Pachycephalosaurus! One can only hope that songs like this can spark an interest in pursuing a career in paleontology.

Track 4 - The Bloodmobile

     Fantastic metaphors abound in this song about the circulatory system. Some of my introductory biology students could have benefited from listening to this song instead of (not) studying their notes. We learn about how blood connects everything in the body and is the main form of transportation within us. There's anatomy, physiology, and immunology, and it's all presented in a fun, easily understandable way. I just might shed a tear the day a student tells me she is “pre-med” and was inspired by this song. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Track 5 - Electric Car

     This song is admittedly short on the science, though it does extoll the benefits of electric vehicles. Considering the bad reputation electric cars have had, it's probably worthwhile to make children interested in them early on. They could have incorporated some air pollution science in here to make the song more substantive.

Track 6 - My Brother The Ape

     This song subtly hints at the evolutionary connection between humans and the other great apes. The obvious similarities between us and our closest relatives are highlighted by contrasting our (apparent) lack of similarity with other organisms. This song is surely a response to the early criticisms Darwin met when he first proposed his ideas. The visceral reaction (Hey, I'm no monkey!) is headed off by this song by suggesting that our relatedness is a positive thing that should be celebrated, perhaps with a family reunion.

Track 7 - What Is A Shooting Star?

     This song gets stuck in my head all the time. Astronomers would be proud at how they delicately maneuver through the often-confusing terms used to describe rocks that fly around in our atmosphere. The row-row-row your boat song style is sure to help cement this one in the mind of the listener, and kids brought up on this will feel positively compelled to correct anyone who claims they found a meteor on the ground.

Track 8 - How Many Planets?

     Never mind how many there are, what do the planets sound like? This song teaches kids the order of the major celestial bodies in our solar system, without getting into any details. While it may not seem like science, this is exactly the same material kids will be getting in science class. So why not make a song out of it to make it more interesting? Pluto fans can rejoice in the fact that it is mentioned, though the reality of its status is affirmed in the last lines, where they lump it in with “a bunch of other stuff”. Sorry, Pluto.

Track 9 - Why Does The Sun Shine?

     More astronomy here, this time loaded with facts about our closest star, the Sun. There's a lot of science that went into our understanding of the facts in this song, and it should intrigue any curious kid who listens closely. And hey, even if you aren't listening to the lyrics, you can still jump up and down in your pajamas and scream about the Sun while you rock out.

Track 10 - Why Does The Sun Really Shine?

     While some may view this song as potentially confusing to children, it actually fits perfectly with attempts to teach them about science. In the last song, we learned that the Sun was a “mass of incandescent gas”, but here we are correctly informed that it is a “miasma of incandescent plasma”. Contradictory? Sure, but that's how science works. Before we understood that there was a fourth phase of matter, it made sense to think the Sun was a gas. Science progresses, we learn new things about the world, and our knowledge continues to expand. Hooray for science!

Track 11 - Roy G. Biv

     The visible spectrum of light is something that interests all children, and most of us learn this little trick to remember the order of the colors. This song was perhaps a great chance to introduce the idea of wavelength, photons, and energy, but a decision always has to be made about how much information should be packed into a given song.

Track 12 - Put It To The Test

     The power of science is highlighted here. Although the details of experimental design and the scientific method are not explained, children are encouraged to test claims that may be suspect. Blind belief makes life easy, but that doesn't mean the believer is right. Kids are naturally inquisitive, and anything that can prolong that questioning nature, forcing them to use their brains instead of automatically accepting everything they hear, will be to the benefit of everyone. That is, everyone except for the people who make their living by counting on others believing what they say without (or despite) evidence.

Track 13 - Photosynthesis

     The level of detail into mechanistic processes here is certainly lacking, but we have to remember the goal of this music. We're trying to teach children some science and get them excited about learning more. The electron transport chain doesn't need to feature prominently in a song in order for kids to learn something about plant physiology. To that end, this song succeeds.

Track 14 - Cells

     I've actually seen the music video for this song used in an introductory biology class. It's catchy and effective at summarizing cell theory: all cells come from other cells. Furthermore, we get some neat imagery to describe DNA. I think the greatest benefit of songs like this is to take ideas that people often find abstract and hard to understand (you can't easily see cells or DNA without fancy science stuff), and reduce them to simpler images. It's a good starting point that remains valid even after learning all the gritty details about the subject later in life.

Track 15 - Speed And Velocity

     Much like “What is a shooting star?”, this song focuses on some of the scientific terms that the public often mixes up. Speed and velocity are two different things, and physicists will be upset if you confuse them. The topic is fairly limited, so the lack of substance in this song shouldn't be surprising. I'm not sure anyone would want to listen to the calculus-based derivation of how position, speed, and acceleration are related to one another.

Track 16 - Computer Assisted Design

     I've never used a CAD program, but I know that they are invaluable tools for engineers. That said, there's not a whole lot of science to share about them. This song is mostly filler, and its length reflects that.

Track 17 - Solid Liquid Gas

     The science here is implicit. Instead of singing about the speed with which atoms move around in the different phases of matter, they use the music to do the work. Solids are slow moving, liquids are bubbly and flowing, and gasses are high energy, bounce-off the wall crazy. Kids will be well equipped for science class if they listen to this, especially if they dance along with the music.

Track 18 - Here Comes Science

     Requisite TMBG song about the album name. One does wonder why they made this track 18...

Track 19 - The Ballad Of Davy Crockett (In Outer Space)

     A silly song that's mostly a space adventure. They still manage to introduce some science terms, the fact that sound does not travel in a vacuum, and the issues with traveling at light speed. It could have been used to describe some of the other aspects of being in outer space, but heck, it's the end of the album, and they've already accomplished so much.

     So, are They Might Be Giants effectively communicating science? This semester we've talked a lot about what makes communication effective, and I think this album succeeds overall. The use of music certainly helps, but they also keep the jargon to a minimum and relate the science to everyday life. Humor features prominently as well. To what should their efforts be compared? Your average professor-researcher doesn't even attempt to reach out to an audience for science in the way this band has, I'd argue that They Might Be Giants communicate science to the public more effectively than the scientists themselves.

     Although the format is completely different, I think their efforts are comparable to those made by the authors of the children's books we read a few weeks ago. Not every song (or book) was full of mechanistic explanations, but they all aim to pique interest in science and the natural world. To that end, I think we can mark this album a success for scientific communication. The public is more likely to value science (and scientists) if they are excited about it and appreciate its importance. This album takes a step in the right direction by engaging young minds, and might even help to engage the minds of parents. Here's hoping.

Rewritten by machine and new technology

Bonus points if you know why this picture is here

     We now return to your regularly scheduled program of topics being discussed in the graduate seminar titled "Effective communication of science to the public". This week we are approaching the topic of science presented on that old thing that kids today don't even recognize: the radio.

     Listening to three selections of radio science made me realize how variable this medium can be. The first clip, about stem cells, was aired on my favorite radio science program, Science Friday. The speaker does a nice job avoiding the treacherous jargon of the field and distills the message down to its essential components. In doing so, he covers important background information for the topic (what are stem cells?), interprets recent findings, discusses the consequences of these findings, how it all applies to our lives, and where the field will be going in the future. This includes everything the mildly curious listener would want to hear without childlike over-simplification or unwarranted over-intellectualization.

     The second piece about the potential dangers of plastics, was decidedly less scientific and more focused on policy. Presenting scientific findings as tenuous conclusions is important (if only my students would appreciate that!), as misinterpretation of extremes (plastic is ALL GOOD or ALL BAD) is one of the major problems scientists have to deal with when communicating to the public. I was puzzled by the fact that the conclusions were tempered by the fact that rat and mouse models were used for the research. I was under the impression that most of the pharmaceutical, developmental, and disease research relevant to human health was conducted with these rodent models.

     The final segment dealt with ice, and was about as exciting as it sounds. An author about the wonderful world of ice was incredibly boring, poorly prepared, and didn't even seem to be an authority on the subject. Her professorial counterpart was distracting and committed the crime of talking down to his audience. I felt insulted by the simplicity of his metaphors, which may have been due to the fact that the subject is not too complex to begin with. When I listen to science shows on the radio, I don't need to hear about how much people think ice is pretty or fun to touch. Very atypical of my normal behavior, I turned off this clip before it even finished.

Some brief notes on the topic of radio science presented in an interesting book:

- The challenges of effective communication via radio are also present when delivering a talk at a professional meeting or presenting a lecture to students

- I'm not sure if every researcher would have interesting sounds to fill in the background. What would yours be?

- I think the reason that most scientists need this kind of advice in the first place is because we are trained to remove excessive description from our writing. Plus, too many of us are left-brained thinkers, who are inept when it comes to poetic things like using imagery or metaphors that evoke the senses. Bah!

(In)effective communication of (non)science to the public (part 2)

     In part one, I stuck to describing some (far from all) of the silliness that is present at the Creation Museum. It's one thing to assert that dinosaurs were all vegetarians, penguins roamed the jungles, and plants are not alive, but what really bothers me is some of the ethical claims made.

Gasp!

     According to Answers in Genesis, the group responsible for the Creation Museum, all ethics and morality come directly from the bible and nowhere else. This is the issue in the first sentence, as god's word (the bible) is considered an “absolute authority for right and wrong”. Humans have used many excuses to justify “abuse”. While this is certainly true, it seems that the absolute authority of the bible and other religious texts have been used to justify abuse as well. Sectarian violence in the middle east, the crusades, and the Spanish inquisition spring to mind. Christopher Hitchens has written a book that describes how god's word has been used to justify abuse throughout history. The bottom line is that drawing morality from the bible does not make people inherently more moral than those who draw it from elsewhere, and may in fact make them less moral.

     There's something terrifying about ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY. I think flexibility is important, though I'm sure  Hammurabi would disagree. More importantly, I am deeply offended when I hear people claim that anyone who doesn't draw their morality from the bible is an amoral person. I live my life according to what I think are just principles. I don't steal anything, and I certainly don't murder anyone. I do these things without having to read a book to know they are wrong. It's self evident that they are wrong. Consider this statement: It is unjust for the innocent to suffer. If you understand the meaning of the words “unjust”, “innocent”, and “suffer”, then the truth of the statement is apparent.

     The rest of the paragraph jumps all over the place. There's something about modern humans, who apparently are similar to ancient humans. Then we have a claim about the abuse of science, but without any examples to support that claim. Finally, there are claims made by evolution (?) about why humans are nothing special. What these three thoughts have to do with each other, I can't grasp, but let's look at what evolution has to say about humans.

     There are many people who reconcile the fact of evolution with the belief in a supernatural creator of some sort, believing that the creator  created and then evolution did it's thing. I don't buy into that because I see no reason to complicate the world with supernatural excuses for human ignorance. The magical, indescribable, and fundamentally unknowable actions of a supernatural being simply cannot be used to explain anything. They can be used as excuses for a lack of explanation, or a convenient place-holder until we figure things out, but their power to explain is nil. What's more, who's to say that humans are not accountable to anyone? I'm accountable to my students, advisor, professors, peers, family, friends, and myself. I don't get to act without consequences, and people depend on me for things. What an outrageous claim!

     Next we have a claim about the branching of the family Hominidae, which includes orangutans, gorillas, chimpanzees, and humans. This claim is supported by a mountain of repeatedly and independently confirmed empirical data, and countered by a book. How the truth of our evolution makes us nothing special evades me. We're the only species to invent the internet! We're the only species to do a lot of things, which seems pretty special to me.

     I'm not even sure what to say about this next one. Is death a  supernatural step in the cycle of life? It certainly seems to happen 100% of the time. Or maybe death is a natural step, but life is not a cycle, per se. I'm not sure what this would mean, but either way, it doesn't seem to have any bearing on whether or not humans are special in any way.

     Finally, we've got a serious taxonomic problem. The bible draws crazy distinctions between animals, plants, and humans. If humans aren't animals, what are we? Plants? Protists? Fungi? Bacteria? Something else? Biblical literalists also must grapple with the fact that humans and all other animals share a staggering amount of DNA, physiology, and anatomical features. Explanations for this are nothing more that ad hoc goalpost shifting, a practice that ultimately does nothing but pile one excuse on top of another. The claim that “only the fittest survive” misrepresents the scientific definition of fitness, and again fails to say anything about whether or not humans are special in any way. All of this is such a confused mess, it's quite comforting to see that scientists aren't the only ones having trouble communicating with the public.

     But all of my arguments are useless when held up against fanatical devotion to circular logic.

Behold the TRUTH! It is TRUE because it is TRUE!

     Why is it that religious leaders can say these four words and be done with it while scientists must toil endlessly to convince people that the climate is changing faster than expected, or vaccines don't cause autism, or that species change over time? Does it make sense to believe outrageous, extraordinary claims without evidence but then to reject decades of evidence in support of a comparatively mundane claim? What is the thought process going on here? There is much cake being had and eaten, which is supposedly impossible. In a world like this, how can scientists effectively communicate anything? We're immediately discredited, and while we try to communicate, Joe T. Public has the bible stuffed in his ears. Or a bunch of tiny bibles, I don't know. Perhaps time travel will be invented, allowing someone to go back and edit the first bible to say “P.S. Scientists are cool, trust them”...

     Why does the public express skepticism about claims made by scientists but not by religious leaders? Scientists actually have more books than religious leaders to support their claims, so it must not be related to the amount of evidence supporting a claim. The quality of the evidence might be the issue, but that brings us back to the first point. “God's word is true” is apparently of the highest quality, whereas all of the published results scientists have discovered aren't up to snuff. Is it even worth trying to communicate with these people?

     This all must have something to do with the values held by people. Why does the public try to investigate the personal motivations of scientists when they make claims, but fail to bring this same level of attention to their religious leaders? Is it because all scientists are immoral heathens out to corrupt the world with their knowledge? By comparison, anyone who believes a statement without evidence must be a good person. I know that I'm making a caricature of this whole mess, but my point remains: the public is selective in their willingness to believe claims, regardless of the evidence presented for or against those claims. It seems that the only way forward is to get the public to change their values, which has started to happen somewhat with the green movement. Caring for the planet by reducing consumption and pollution seems easily reconcilable with biblical values, but what is the stem cell researcher to do? When coming up against ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY, does it even make sense to try communicating with the public?

They sure do!

(In)effective communication of (non)science to the public (part 1)

       I recently traveled to a magical land, forgotten by time and reason. Dinosaurs roamed about and nothing ever died. Sound familiar? Well, if you've ever read the bible and taken it literally, this is how the world used to be. This view of reality is preserved at the CreationMuseum, located in Kentucky just a short drive south of Cincinnati. Their slogan: Prepare to believe. I really wasn't sure how to go about preparing, but I did bring my camera.

       The museum is run by a group called Answers in Genesis, a fairly extreme Christian group of young-Earth creationists. They are pretty nutty. Being a zoology graduate student with a fairly strong grasp on evolutionary principles, I made this trip largely for laughs and to see how the other side lives. It was also of interest considering the seminar I'm taking (Effective communication of science to the public) is the reason for this blog began.

       The Creation Museum (though arguably not really a museum) is big on dinosaurs. Really big. Every advertisement I've ever seen for the place features dinosaurs, and dinosaurs are the first thing we encounter upon entering. After the dinosaurs comes the ticket booth (an outrageous $25!), but then we're back to more dinosaurs. They then take your picture with dinosaurs ($20 if you want a copy!), and then you move along to see more dinosaurs.

 Dinosaurs and people together, wow!

       We're taken to a scene of a paleontological dig site, where two researchers work side by side on the same fossil. One is a creationist, the other is an actual scientist. This is some text that appeared near the exhibit:

       The first part is fine, and certainly true. The second part is also true, as scientists can look at the same set of data and come to different conclusions. The problem arises when one “scientist” interprets facts according to a book written a few thousand years ago and the other scientist interprets facts according to the current understanding of professionals in the field, which relies on peer-reviewed published records documenting empirical findings. The conclusions reached by these two researchers couldn't be more different. The creationist claims (from the authority of a book) that the world was created a few thousand years ago and all the fossils are a result of a global flood. The real scientist claims (from the authority of countless lines of empirical evidence that has been repeatedly tested and confirmed by other independent scientists) that the world was created billions of years ago and that fossils are a product of slow processes that continue to act today. Which of these claims makes more sense: believing you are right because a book says so, or believing you are right because your assumptions have been verified repeatedly for decades? I just don't get it.

     But who cares? Everything was just perfect in the world of the bible.

Look, a forest penguin!

     A literal interpretation of the bible creates some problems:

       Dinosaurs, cats, snakes, and hawks were all vegetarians. Neat! One must wonder why their teeth and digestive systems are so capable of seizing, ripping, and disintegrating protein from other animals. Or maybe one must not wonder about that. Don't wonder about that. Just accept the fact that despite the incredibly sharp and serrated teeth present in the jaw of the T-rex, it was content to eat peaches and dandelions. At least, that's what the bible says.

Delicious foliage!

       Wait a second! They were all eating plants, so why do the plants have to die but not the animals? The answer is simple: plants aren't alive!

Whew! That's good to know. I'll be sure to tell some botanists about this.

       But, you might protest, why do these organisms eat meat now? The answer, according to the book, is that after the fall of man everything changed:

Put those teeth to use!

       Some other things that could be hard to explain are easily handled when repetition from a book takes the place of critical thinking:

Revealed information? Sounds exciting!

Don't weed your garden, they're there to keep things in balance!

       Another big problem the bible has to deal with is why dinosaurs and other creatures no longer roam the Earth. The ark (a big boat) features prominently in the Creation Museum, and supposedly held two of each kind of animal.

Dinosaurs were on the ark, but I guess they all fell off to become fossils...

Assuming this model is correct, there may have actually been only one zebra on the ark!

     People who didn't get their tickets for the ark were left behind to work things out for themselves:

I don't see how choking someone will improve the situation.

     This is all pretty absurd, and I could go on and on about the ridiculous things I saw at the Creation Museum, but I'll stop here.

     Stay tuned for part 2, where I discuss what really bothers me about the Creation Museum and incorporate ideas about communication and the position of science in society.

P.S. To help myself sleep at night, I donated $50 to the National Center for ScienceEducation. This organization has played an integral part in defending science and reason from unsubstantiated pseudo-science masquerading as something that deserves attention in our classrooms. If you care about the quality of science education in this country, please give what you can to this group. They were largely responsible for the legal defeat of intelligent design in  Kitzmiller vs.Dover.

Story time

     There's an interesting discussion developing on ECOLOG, a listserv for ecologists, about the roll of hypotheses in ecology. At the base of this discussion is whether or not science needs to be hypothesis-driven. Certainly, statistical analyses are suited for hypothesis-driven science, but does that mean that other types of research are somehow less valuable? What about natural history studies? Documenting changes in community structure or detailing the life history of a species can be the first steps that lead to important, hypothesis-driven studies (i.e., the kinds of projects that will get funded).

     What does any of this have to do with children's stories? Most of these books deal with topics in basic science: biodiversity, life cycles, community interactions. None of these books are stories about hypothesis testing, and perhaps that is a good thing. For young children, we need to start introducing them to the biological sciences at the broadest, most easily understood levels. Perhaps if we can hook enough young minds, the larger issue of communicating science with the public will diminish...

Chickens Aren't The Only Ones
     The author's goal here is to share with children the fact that eggs exist beyond the ones chickens provide for our enjoyment. The science that's communicated here is basic organismal biology, and, as indicated by my blog title cum web address, it's a shame the author didn't use this opportunity to link organisms in an evolutionary context. Children are notorious for asking "why?", so it seemed fitting to put some kind of explanation into the book. Perhaps that was too much to ask...

Old Shell, New Shell
     The author takes a story about a hermit crab looking for a new shell and uses it to introduce an impressive array of organisms that most children will not be familiar with. The guide to all of the pictured species, with short blurbs about each, is impressive. I would have collected this information as a child and been proud to show off my identification skills at the drop of a hat. The introduction and concluding remarks regarding conservation are excellent additions for parents and their children. The sooner we can get children to care about the environment, the better.

Pumpkin Jack
     A disappointing tale of a jack-o-lantern left to germinate into a new pumpkin plant. I was truly excited for details about the decomposition process or even basic plant developmental biology, but alas, the story focuses more on what children do at different times of the year. The science here is superficial, though it is worth something to make sure children know where plants come from (i.e., other plants). I can't imagine a child ever wanting to read this book more than once, and I bet books need to be re-read ad nauseum to be remembered.

Round The Garden
     I was prepared to write a biting review of this story when I noticed it was written by an eight year old. Quite impressive, especially if he added the small flourishes like naming clouds and pointing out essential components of photosynthesis. Again, the science is fairly basic and doesn't explore much beyond the basics of the water cycle.

The Sea, The Storm, And The Mangrove Tangle
     This author includes what I think is an essential component of a good children's book intended to communicate science: an introduction. Whether written to be read to children or solely for the parents, this background is incredibly important because it allows questions to be asked & answered, and allows the readers to put the story in a realistic context. I read the story about the hungry caterpillar, but I never really connected it to lepidopteran ecology. This kind of science writing is the opportunity to take a cute story with pretty pictures and use it to actually educate a young person. Too often, this opportunity is wasted and perhaps not even comprehended by the author.

     Overall, the visuals were well done, especially when requiring a second look and concentration from the child. Detailed illustrations train children in skills of observation, which puts them well on their way to becoming scientists.

And remember, children are our future!

What we've got here is a failure to communicate

     Because this blog was created as a component of a seminar course on effective communication of science to the public, it stands to reason that I should be reflecting on this topic regularly. Now, defining "the public" is not always easy, and I've used Joe T. Public as my all-encompassing stand in, but it seems that I often consider myself to be one of the public. If the public are simply people who are not experts (or nowhere near experts) on a subject, then when it comes to new-fangled CMSB (cellular, molecular, and structural biology), I consider myself one of the public. Sure, I've had a few introductory biology courses that do a brief survey of these fields, but I've never had an advanced course, and I certainly don't read the literature. So, when I go to see a talk by a professional scientist doing this kind of research, I take on the role of the public with whom the speaker should be effectively communicating.

     At the last CMSB talk I attended, I think I understood three of the presenter's slides. There were probably fifty or so presented in total. Included in the three I think I understood are the intro slide (Hi, this is my name and where I work) and the closing slide (Thanks for listening, here's the people who helped me). That leaves one actual slide that I think I understood. Isn't this a major problem?

     I've already prefaced this with my admitted ignorance on the entire field of biology in which this presentation fit, but does that mean that the speaker should avoid making any effort to communicate effectively with me? This talk was not given at a special gathering of experts in the field, but rather to an entire department that is (unfortunately) labeled "zoology". We've grappled in seminar about the importance of casting your talk at the right level for your audience, so why is it that this talk (and CMSB talks in general) fail to do so?

     My two guesses: 1) scientists trained in this field are never taught [i]how[/i] to communicate effectively with the public, and 2) the science in this field cannot be effectively communicated to the public. I've left out the cynical third guess that assumes the scientists just don't care, but this may be the case. If the problem is that there is no training for communication in this field, one has to wonder why that is the case. Surely all science deserves to be communicated to the public. Most of the CMSB talks I've been to relate fairly directly to human health in some way, so it would seem that these scientists would have much to gain from communicating with the public. They'll never have a hostile crowd at their lab door, wielding pitchforks and torches, demanding justification for the work being done there. Perhaps it is this very issue that makes them such poor communicators: their work relates so directly to human health, they only have to state as much to satisfy Joe T. Public. When that level of communication is the extent to which you flex your communication muscles, it's no wonder you fail so spectacularly when someone wants to know more than the superficial about your research.

     The second guess is obviously an exaggeration, but I think there is some truth to it. In my areas of interest (behavior and ecology), most concepts are fairly intuitive. Of course females will be more choosy than males when selecting mates, they (typically) invest far more in their offspring than the males. Is anyone confused about this? Doesn't it make sense that prey would change the kind of food they eat when predators are around? They should eat food that gives them more bang for their buck, since wasting time eating less nutritious food exposes them to risk of predation. Simple, right? Finally, a topic that ecologists often describe as "complex" is the trophic cascade. But here it is, plain and simple: If you eliminate bears, you get more deer, and more deer means fewer plants. Do I need to repeat that?

     I think one of the main challenges a CMSB scientist faces is that the concepts in their field do not clearly apply to intuitive relationships that the public can see in their daily lives. We pay zero attention to transcription, cell signaling, gene regulation, and ATP synthesis even though these things are going on inside the cells that compose our bodies all the time. The inner workings of the cell are more abstract that the inner workings of an ecosystem, though both can be complex. However, I do not think all complexity is created equal. Compare these diagrams:



On the top is a food web; each sphere represents an organism, and lines between spheres represent the fact that things eat each other. On the bottom is a diagram of signaling pathways within a cell, linking all the different molecules that interact with one another. Sure, both of these diagrams have a lot going on and would probably intimidate Joe T. Public. The point is that one of these can be effectively explained to anyone in a few sentences, and the other one takes an advanced degree to approach intellectually.

Naturally, my viewpoint is biased, but I have yet to attend a CMSB talk that effectively communicated with me (the public).

P.S. There is a curious lack of CMSB students in this seminar...

Stresses of being a working mother

While I don't actually have any insight into the topic of this post (as related to humans), I'd like to share some findings from the world of spiders.

     Daiqin Li and Robert Jackson published a paper a few years ago investigating the role of predation cues on parental care in a spider. The focal species, Scytodes pallida, is a spitting spider that ejects a mixture of silk and venom from its fangs. Scytodes females carry their egg sacs around in their chelicerae (the parts attached to the fangs) until the spiderlings hatch.

A female Scytodes carrying her egg sac in her chelicerae

     This is clearly awesome, but Scytodes has a problem: it is preyed upon by another spider called Portia labiata. Portia belongs to the jumping spider family, known for excellent vision and surprisingly sophisticated cognitive abilities. Portia has learned (over evolutionary time) to preferentially consume Scytodes that are carrying eggs. The benefits are two-fold: 1) Portia gets to eat the Scytodes mother and her eggs, and 2) Portia is more successful at capturing Scytodes, since the eggs must be dropped before defensive spitting can commence.

A menacing Portia, the spider that eats other spiders

     The question Li and Jackson were interested in is whether Scytodes has any way to resolve the conflict between needing to carry eggs and defend itself from Portia. The authors predict that Scytodes may change traits related to egg hatching in order to solve this problem.

     Egg-carrying Scytodes were presented with volatile chemical cues (basically, smells) left behind by Portia. These cues could come from silk, feces, or anything else the spider leaves behind. The authors measured the time until the eggs hatched, how big the spiderlings were, and the proportion of eggs that failed to develop. They found that eggs hatched sooner and produced smaller offspring when Portia cues were present (compared to a control without any Portia cues). What's even cooler is that this effect of shorter incubation and smaller offspring was even stronger if the Portia providing the cues had recently eaten Scytodes. Although there was no statistically significant effect on the proportion of eggs that failed to develop, the trend was the same as incubation time.

Eggs from females under risk of predation hatched sooner

     What this all means is that Scytodes can sense predator cues and respond by speeding up the development of its offspring. The benefit is that the sooner the egg sac is gone, the sooner Scytodes can defend itself from Portia. A potential cost is that the offspring will be smaller than usual, which may put them at a disadvantage later in life. Presumably, this is better than getting eaten before the spiderlings even get to hatch. What a tough world these spiders live in! If only they could invent spider day care.

     Just how Scytodes changes the incubation time is not known, but this just demonstrates how science works. An observation leads to a question, and the answer to that question creates more questions. Scientists never stop questioning, and it seems like we may never run out of mysteries to solve. How's that for job security?

Obviously, this is our future...

Sampling some of the attempts to communicate a very complex science (climate change) to non-scientists (the ever-present Joe Public) reveals fundamental challenges in trying to make a point.


A Newsweek article takes the informed approach by stating that "global warming" is more than just a uniform increase in temperature across the globe. Furthermore, the author argues that extreme weather events cannot be blamed on climate change, since these events are products of local phenomena (e.g., air masses colliding). The real evidence comes from long term trends, though the wealth of data going back hundreds of thousands of years is curiously never mentioned.


I can't help but feel like the reader is walking into a bait-and-switch situation here: climate change is real and happening, but nothing we observe on a daily basis can be attributed to it. This seems like a great way to disconnect human behavior from larger processes, which is exactly the opposite of what we should be trying to accomplish. The author tangles with some real science-type words by writing about “a high pressure system that has intensified an average of 0.9 geopotential meters every decade over the past 60 years”. Knowing that this kind of language would be lost on readers (why even use it?), the author translates into "layman terms". I wonder if this strategy is ineffective: layman is defined as someone lacking knowledge. What is the value in trying to communicate like this?


The conclusion of this article is especially terrible. Climate scientists at Duke are portrayed as having given u the search for a "natural" explanation for their data and then fallen back on the last remaining explanation of human-induced change. I sincerely doubt this is the method by which the scientists did their study. The author fails to end with any advice about what can be done, and instead seems to suggest that we should just strap in and enjoy the ride. Who knows what's coming next with all this wacky global weirding!?


Two articles from Time magazine, from 2006 and 2010, illustrate more issues in communicating this important message to Joseph T. Public. The first of these contradicts a main message from the Newsweek article by attributing a series of extreme weather events directly to global warming. Now Joe doesn't know what to think, because even the journalists can't decide how to interpret our world! While the analogy of earth as a living organism is childish and stupid, the author at least takes the time to highlight the nature of some of the changes going on: glacial melting, release of soil carbon, ocean conveyor belts, and drought. The author likely alienated a number of readers by overly politicizing the end of the article, in a section titled "What we can do" (which, incidentally, gives no advice about what we can do).


In 2006, it seemed that many skeptics had been convinced that climate change was real, but the story is very different in 2010. The author points out how scare tactics ("I have a nightmare" vs. "I have a dream"), may be responsible for the loss of public belief in climate change. This approach relates back (again) to the deficit model: Joe will not be convinced by all them crazy datas; scientists need to appeal to his values. There's some oddness in here about people who believe the world is a just place, but I'm not sure how that fits with the story being told here. Is there any hope in communicating a message to someone who believes the world is a just place? If it is, then why do anything? Justice will sort it out, right?


The author concludes that the public can't be won over by scare tactics, though active mis-information (i.e., lies) are incredibly effective. The solution for scientists is thus made entirely clear: stop scaring people with reality, and start lying to them about a fantasy land of musical rainbows and chocolate snowflakes. Hooray!

   

On becoming a more best writer

     Here I comment on two selections from a book called The Best Science Writing of 2010, both focused on the consequences of what we eat. Before I delve into each article, consider the initial approach of both. In All You Can Eat, Jim Carrier begins with, “The green dumpster behind Red Lobster was nearly empty when I lifted the lid”. In Graze Anatomy, Richard Manning begins, “Will Winter and Todd Churchill have a plan”. Unless you are borderline comatose, how do you put these articles down after reading the first sentence? What is this guy doing in the dumpster, and what are those two planning? Now consider the first sentence from one of the peer-reviewed scientific publications currently sitting on my desk. In an article titled “Interactions of multiple predators with different foraging modes in an aquatic food web”, Michael Carey & David Wahl begin with, “Predation is a key factor structuring communities and drives food web dynamics”. Are you holding your breath? Where could this gripping story lead? Obviously the selections from the book and the peer-reviewed paper have different goals and different audiences, but I wasn't surprised to see that the selections from the book were not peer-reviewed journal articles. The best science writing is apparently taking place outside of where most scientists do their writing, an eerie parallel to the issue of where the public does their learning about science (see my previous post titled Communicating ecological issues with the public).

All You Can Eat – Jim Carrier

     This article tackles issues surrounding the source of our food, namely shrimp. The sustainability of the (largely former) shrimp catching industry and the pitfalls of the (now dominant) shrimp farming industry are brought into the light. While I did not need to read this article to be convinced of the sorry state of the seafood industry (I already read the marvelous and depressing book, The Empty Ocean), Carrier likely converted a number of people to swearing off shrimp (or at least consuming them more responsibly). Take a moment to appreciate that he might not have had as many readers had he started his article with, “Shrimp are an essential component of the human diet and benthic marine community”.

     Some of the essential characteristics of Carrier's writing that likely got it included in this compendium are his use of story telling, character development, dialogue/quotations, scenery descriptions, pacing, approachable language, and interesting jumps in time and space. Now, I haven't taken a introduction to writing course or anything comparable, but these characteristics appear in most of the things I read (scientific articles excluded). A non-scientist friend of mine pointed out that people who are good at doing science writing are probably good writers in general, with an interest in science. I agreed, and it stands to reason that a grip on the essential elements of good writing in general will translate to good science writing.

     I'm not sure what criteria were used to label these selections as “best”, but I doubt they put much weight on the effectiveness with which the author communicates science. Yes, it is an entertaining read, but will readers come away understanding the science? I already feel myself slipping into deficit thinking, wherein communicating science requires nothing more than spouting facts and figures. Carrier gets the point across that the fisheries are in serious trouble, and even takes the time to give an overview of shrimp biology. Is this enough to get the public to understand the science? Where are the models for maximum sustainable yield that I had to program by hand during my course in population and community ecology? Coding and manipulating those models got me to understand the underlying science, but we can't really expect the public to take the same approach.

     Carrier excels by making the scientific issues relevant to the public by tying in other subjects (politics, history, economics) and making it clear how this relates to everyday life (choosing a restaurant, being a more responsible consumer). I hope that this mode of effectiveness (re: making people care) was an important criterion in choosing which articles would appear in this book.

     Richard Manning, author of Graze Anatomy, highlights the benefits and future of the grass-fed beef movement. I was also familiar with this topic from the various Pollan-related media I've come in contact with. A fellow graduate student, Tim Bankroff, works in this field, and we've shared a few discussions on the topic. The punchline of the story is similar to Carrier's: we can improve the quality of life on this planet if we change the way we produce our food. Manning is also effective at including just enough science to substantiate his claims without drowning the reader in the details. Economic tie-ins feature prominently in this piece, and the link to global warming is unavoidable. These issues engage the public in ways that an ANOVA table displaying a significant interaction between cow food and grazing area simply cannot. I felt that Manning fell short in terms of writing quality, as his piece lacked the upbeat pace and interesting characters found in All You Can Eat.

     Overall, it seems that being the best writer takes a grasp on the fundamentals of writing combined with insight into how to make your audience care about what you are writing. I think these are two different skill sets, and I'll echo my previous thought by suggesting that scientists recruit these authors to help the public understand the meaning and value of the science that we do.

Blogging about blogging

     Comparing different approaches to communicating science raises some interesting questions, the most important of which deals with the very existence of science blogs. What is the purpose of a science blog? While I don't have the answer, an overview of a selection of blogs may be a good starting point in resolving this question.

     Since I'm listening to the radio program right now, I'll begin with the Science Friday blog. This blog complements the radio program and is regularly updated. SciFri frequently blends topics like technology, internet security, and economics with scientific issues. While the blog is not disconnected from basic research (the authors do interpret primary literature), the focus is certainly more on the applied side of science. SciFri seems to be avoiding the pitfalls of the deficit model (belief that getting the public to understand scientific issues means forcing data down their throats), because the authors strive to relate these issues to "the real world" and the comings and going of our daily lives.

     In stark contrast to SciFri, there is Parasite of the Day. This small-scale blog highlighted a parasite a day for an entire year and is now updated less vigorously. The goal of the blog seems to be communicating science for the sake of sharing information. The contributors have no real agenda beyond highlighting interesting organisms people would not normally hear about. How does this apply to anyone who is not infected with some exotic organism? Knowledge for the sake of knowledge is fine by me, but this blog seems to have a limited audience, and the lack of any applied angle, may prevent people from ever caring about the content. And yet, I think it is quite admirable to undertake a project like this just to share enthusiasm about a subject you find interesting.

     Another low-profile blog, Marine Conservation News takes a very different approach to communicating science than Parasite of the Day. The authors' focus is entirely applied, and relate content to their readers that highlight the current state of marine conservation. Their informed opinions, make the content highly approachable for the general public, despite the fact that the blog does not have many readers. While the blog doesn't really communicate science in a primary sense (interpreting journal articles), it does spread awareness of conservation issues that are ultimately related to current scientific endeavors. The blog may be more successful than others in that it often provides outlets for its readers to participate in marine conservation.

     Leaving the realm of small, personal blogs takes us to Scientists at Work, which is a component of the NY Times. The blog takes the form of field notes, sharing with the public what it is like to actually do science. Obviously, someone at the Times thought the public would actually care to read about this. It can be a bit tedious to read, but by humanizing the scientific process (and scientists) the blog helps to break the traditional (mis)conception of Bunsen burners, beakers, and lab coats being the defining characteristics of science. Readers of this blog learn about how research is done, but is this really a way of communicating science?

     From personalized accounts of science research, I next move to comment on the cleverly-titled blog The EEB & Flow. This blog is dedicated to interpreting current work in ecology and evolutionary biology, and features numerous authors who provide quality insight into a diversity of articles. This blog doesn't seem to work for the general public, as the material is often too dense and jargon-laden. However, this only makes me question the idea of what defines "the public". There are a number of graduate students in my department who have a general background in ecology and evolution, though they are not specialists in the field. We can read this blog and get something meaningful out of it, so I think that we are "the public" for this blog. The blog post about children scientists is fitting, as it questions what it is that defines a scientist. The same issue arises with defining the public, and I think it would be safest to avoid formulating any strict rules regarding either term. Unlike Scientists at Work, this blog is very impersonal and is therefore more in line with the normal means by which scientists communicate their work. This is not to say that one method is better or worse than the other, and the blog entry regarding the bacteria-arsenic controversy raises some interesting ideas about scientific communication in the modern age. Would it even be possible for scientists to move the peer review process to an online open forum, where hypotheses and data live and die by group consensus? Would scientists even bother to participate in this activity?

     Last, but not least, is Zooillogix. Taking a humorous approach to communicating science, this blog shares a general wonder about the natural world while occasionally delving into primary literature. The incorporation of humor, personal asides, and media (youtube features prominently in this blog) may make this blog more approachable than many of the above. If most Americans are learning about science outside of the classroom, one has to wonder if a blog that functions similarly to things like Animal Planet has hit upon the right formula for communicating with the public. What is lost/gained from taking a more casual approach to communicating science?

     Reviewing these blogs brings me back to the original question I posed: What is the purpose of a science blog? That question could be more productively rephrased as: What should science blogging do? These blogs show that blogs can interpret primary sources of scientific results, make science more interesting, illustrate why doing science matters, give insights into the process of science, and  simply share enthusiasm for different topics in science. Are all of these pursuits worthwhile? Which approach is most effective? Most importantly, are blogs even the correct approach to communicating with the public?

Two approaches to the same subject

Two accounts of the same events are considered here: one written by a scientist and the other by a wildlife journalist. Both address the ecological impacts of the removal and subsequent re-introduction of Yellowstone Park wolves.

The Wolf Effect

    Throughout this piece, the author gives a decent introduction to some influential ideas in community ecology (e.g., density- vs. trait-mediated effects and trophic cascades, though it was odd not to see mention of  keystone species or top-down vs. bottom-up control of ecosystem function.). While the idea of a food web may be blindingly obvious to your average ecologist, the general public could probably stand to have this concept illustrated and reinforced (I know my father always wants to know what an organism "does" in the world, what its "purpose" is). To this end, the author did an excellent job connecting of wolves to the entire Yellowstone community: elk, bears, coyotes, pronghorn, foxes, rodents, ravens, owls, beetles, trees, and grasses are all impacted by wolves in interesting and sometimes unexpected ways.

    There was, however, one organism's interactions with wolves that I thought the author could have explored more thoroughly. Why did the wolf extirpation happen in the first place? The shooting of the buffalo hints that this action may have been driven by the economic concerns of local ranchers. Human concerns about elk over-population and excessive grazing are understandable, but the author seemed puzzled by the fact that people then became concerned about the dwindling elk population. Could it be that the wolf re-introduction renewed pressure on livestock? I found the lack of coverage on this topic disappointing, especially since humans are the real keystone species driving these trophic cascades.

    The ever-present issue of climate change, and its role in explaining natural phenomena, was treated fairly well here. The author made it clear how if a year was wetter or drier than average, the elk faced adverse conditions. Mechanistic explanations of why precipitation is so important to the elk help to clarify the potential impacts of climate change, and I was glad to see the author devote some time to these descriptions. Overall, I think the average non-scientist would come away understanding that the increased frequency of extreme conditions predicted by current climate change models are bound to have measurable impacts on this ecosystem.

The straightforward, informative style and meaningful content of this piece lead me to believe it was written by a scientist.

Valley of Fear

    Because I had read The Wolf Effect first (it was shorter and had pictures!), I had already decided that this article was written by a wildlife journalist. My belief in this matter was confirmed on every page: the language used was far more poetic and I found the article harder to read. Although the same events were being described, the author placed significantly more focus on individual scientists, their thoughts, and their actions. A slew of direct quotations filled some gaps left by The Wolf Effect: How did the scientists figure this stuff out? How were their hypotheses regarded by their peers? This kind of writing likely gives more life to how the public perceives the pursuit of knowledge, but it wasn't something I found lacking in the first article. However, this approach may be more effective at reaching the public.

    An interesting point that wasn't given enough attention was the public reaction to the scientists' claim that wolves were driving these patterns. The author describes that when research reveals a new "overarching paradigm", people will resist it so long as they have a single point of contention with it. This seems to be the case with the current illogical debates in our society about climate change and evolution. To those who are not scientifically trained, a mountain of evidence can be toppled by one seemingly incongruous fact, even if the theory is fully capable of accommodating that fact. The next sentence in this section raises the possibility that people may be "ideologically opposed" to the results of a scientific study. This certainly seems to be the case with climate change and evolution, but how this fits with the wolf re-introduction is unclear. Probing further into why the public meets these ideas with such resistance may reveal the true shortcomings in the attempt of scientists to communicate their findings.

    I was pleased to see that the author took the time to consult some primary literature. Anyone who has the dual skills of being able to understand scientific publications and effectively convey the results and implications to a non-scientific audience is an asset in the battle to get everyone onto the same page. Perhaps it would be advantageous for research institutions to hire publicists that could serve this function...