Science journalism needs more punk, not more patrolling

by neuroamanda | 02 Apr 2016

What is with the rash of hand-wringing among science journalists lately? Everyone and their mom is publishing think pieces bemoaning the state of science journalism, and they mostly seem to be passing the buck to scientists. Scientists need to be scrutinized because they’re all up to no good! Science is experiencing an unprecedented spate of retractions! The scientific method is inherently flawed! It’s as if science journalism collectively woke up to a “problem” that is not new and has been building over years, and decided that the right course of action was to construct an even more adversarial culture with their subjects: the scientists and the research they produce.

Science journalism is weird. It’s made up of people who seem to share a worldview that rational thought is good, that scientific progress is beneficial for humanity, that research deserves to be publicized, that the scientific method is the best tool we have for learning about the fundamentals of the world and how we ourselves work. Yet science journalism — well, science writing, more broadly — is also this motley patchwork of people from two different camps: journalists, or those who attended journalism schools, and former scientists, who probably attended graduate school in the sciences (there are of course hybrid cases and other paths to science writing). On the face of it, these two camps share a lot: critical thinking, searching for and interrogating evidence, progressively polishing hypotheses or adopting new ones that account for new data, and always questioning the establishment. So why, now especially, are some in the journalist camp pushing for hardline, investigative science journalism?

Is science journalism going through some kind of identity crisis or feeling of inadequacy? Does it not measure up compared to the hard-hitting political reporters or the investigative corporate watchdogs? Why is there this sudden insistence that most scientists are colluding with industry, fudging results, being shady with funding or outright making stuff up? Scientific retractions are up, but so are cases of autism, and rationally we know it’s not because of vaccines, but a combination of better detection and not-yet-fully understood mix of environmental, genetic, and neural factors.

Any observer or practitioner of science journalism likewise sees the morass of factors that has led to the “crisis” the field is now experiencing: the implosion of traditional media and the rise of online outlets, the 24-hour news cycle that demands fresh content and ever more clicks, the iron yoke of advertising on revenue, the lack of reporters with specialized science knowledge or the time to apply it, the symbiotic relationship with glamor journals and their embargo whims, and on and on and on. And yet the knee-jerk reaction is, scientists must somehow be responsible for this plight, just like politicians must always be lying or corporations must always be covering up their financial misdeeds. I get it, it’s an easy narrative to swallow.

Investigative science journalism has its place, that is certain. Retraction Watch, PubPeer, and like-minded projects shed light where it is definitely needed. In-depth investigations of sexual harassment in academia or the corporate ties of scientists are valid. Scrutiny of hyped medical studies or poorly or misleadingly reported clinical trials helps everyone. And drawing attention to environmental and public health crises is important. But for most of science, all this is overkill. Most science is harmless. In fact it’s less than harmless, because most people, not even specialized scientists, will ever come across it. It’s not a cute panda cub, and it’s not a blind cave-dwelling fish with feet or the first flower ever grown in space or even the loneliest whale. It’s an unremarkable little ant that toils alongside other unremarkable little ants and together they somehow amass an unfathomable intelligence and build a massive, awe-inspiring nest that seems way beyond the capabilities of their little bodies and finite lives.

Now instead of promoting a science journalism that acts like ant spray and targeting individual ants, if we could focus on the cool hive mind or the engineering feat or all the other features of this ecosystem that we just don’t understand, maybe we’d actually be producing something interesting and novel and worth reading and paying for. Some ants/bugs/scientists deserve the spray, but it’s kind of a poisonous mindset to go in with extermination being your primary objective, rather than understanding, observing, and storytelling.

There’s another way I think (some) science journalism could be. Take music critics: they obviously love music, they might have their specialized beat whether it’s opera or heavy metal, and they listen obsessively, go to shows, follow tours, profile musicians. Sounds an awful lot like reading papers, going to conferences, doing interviews, and the other routines of science journalism. Music journalists are critical, and they’ve followed the evolution of certain artists, can place them into a historical and contemporary context, can give their albums one star or four, and ultimately give fans an idea of whether they should listen or go to the gig. But they don’t go looking for misdeeds (and there’s probably more of that in rock than in science) and most of what they do is quick hits about Kanye West’s latest Twitter rant, not analyzing the entire oeuvre of Bach. And they’re not inherently against music.

Many science journalists seem concerned with appearing as “science cheerleaders” rather than “science watchdogs”. But I say go ahead and be a science groupie (and I don’t mean the IFLScience variety). That’s how you get backstage and see the good, the bad, and the ugly, and that’s the only way you’ll get into the after party. Science is not rock & roll. Yes, there is a lot more at stake with science for humanity, the planet, and the economy than in Justin Bieber’s career (though perhaps only barely). But, like music, science is a fundamental human activity, an industry with broad societal sway, and something that moves and excites people. Science also has its own Milli Vanillis, but they don’t invalidate Einstein or Curie or deter the next indie wunderkind of cosmology or the pop princess of physics. Science is hard, and it’s imperfect, much like the music industry, and for every busker on the subway there are 10 graduate students toiling in the lab. Science journalists can choose to continue lamenting the rise of the scientific equivalent of talentless boy bands, or they can celebrate the new kids who are just trying to get a spot at the open mic or the Susan Boyles of science who have been overlooked. Not everyone needs to aspire to be a modern Nellie Bly; I think I’d much rather be the Rob Sheffield of science writing.