Science is a discipline with a long history, its roots stretching back to the emergence of philosophy in Ancient Greece. Since then, the scientific process has been slowly and steadily shaped, as the representatives of human innovation and endeavour – the scientists – recalibrate it.
In this blog I claim that writing about science is about acknowledging that this process is far more important than the results.
Today, the role of scientist is revered as virtually infallible, and scientific work is sought out as the objective truth, the final word on matters ranging from human emotions to the fate of the universe. And, despite the continuous disputes and controversies that arise in scientific discourse, and the dramatic U-turns that periodically result in consensus within “the community”, people tend to take the scientific word as gospel.
With this in mind, it is important to be level-headed when writing scientific content that will be viewed by the general public, such as in museum and exhibition spaces. If history is anything to go by, most of what is currently viewed as “scientifically proven” will, 50 years from now, either be significantly altered, qualified or even proved entirely wrong.
The philosopher Thomas Kuhn viewed science as working in paradigms that change and collapse when the status quo can no longer offer coherent explanations. For example, the ancients believed that the Earth was the centre of our planetary system, and this model would have served a purpose, until other observable facts could not be explained. When Copernicus offered his explanation – that the sun was at the centre – the whole paradigm shifted. Out with the old, in with the new.
Scientists themselves cannot (and perhaps should not) show such extreme scepticism. It would be too depressing to conduct rigorous testing and calculation if you thought your results might be entirely discarded in the near future. Indeed, many scientists see the discipline as a progression, as building on the endeavours of past scientists.
When writing on behalf of scientists, it is useful to keep both sides of the story in mind. While you are not offering “The Final Explanation” of how things came to be, at the same time you have to give an accurate account of what current scientific consensus is. It’s almost like you must commit to a view – but don’t commit too much!
The worst thing would be for people to think they were “lied to”, that scientists claim to know the secrets of the world, but then disown their ideas at the drop of a hat. A common example is the use of vitamin supplements. Every week there seems to be a new conclusion: vitamin supplements are essential, then helpful, then irrelevant. With these kinds of proclamations, we could do with some healthy scepticism!
Personally, I think it a great honour to write on behalf of people who change our lives and the way we view the world. For the most part, scientists know their work forms part of a large, ever-changing puzzle that pieces together the mysteries of the universe. The key to writing about it is to acknowledge that the puzzle is never complete. The joy of science is in the process, and not in the self-satisfaction of reaching the final answer.