There’s
been quite a bit of discussion of this Op-Ed piece that appeared in the New York Times this week.
Although I usually use this blog for sharing research results and funny stories
from the field, I thought it might also be a good venue for thinking a little
bit more about science in society.
Truth be
told, I was kind of whelmed by the article. It mostly rehashed a lot of
discussion about scientific literacy in the US (it lacks) and what to do about
it (do more outreach!).
Both
those ideas ring true, but they're not enough.
We all
know that the way to achieve literacy is to read a lot. Read books, read
magazines, read blogs (if you must)—and your language skills and knowledge will
improve.
If
that’s true, then maybe the way to achieve science literacy is to think like a
scientist a lot. All of my friends who are geologists and biologists and
physicists are very comfortable thinking like scientists because we've had
years of practice. But I think that many people, when presented with a problem
that a scientific approach could answer, tend to shut down part way through (the
same way an illiterate person presented with a book might flip through, close
it, and be done). It takes practice to be comfortable attacking thorny problems
every day. The process has to be learned and practiced: thinking things
through, testing ideas out, and (since asking genuinely new questions is really
hard) looking things up in reliable references. To my mind, that's all there is
to approaching the world scientifically: think it through, test it out, or look
it up. A person that can do those things is a person that will not be easily
fooled.
But
most science outreach, including this blog, is mostly focused on the “wow
factor” of science. I work in a kind of cool spot (Antarctica) and have lots of
exciting pictures of geologists jumping out of helicopters and funny stories
about frozen poop. But that “wow factor” isn’t going to help improve a person’s
science literacy any more than exposing them to the “wow factor” of literature
is going to improve their traditional literacy. Seeing how giant a tome Moby
Dick is or watching the glitzy new “Great Gatsby” is going to give a person a
superficial bump in literacy at best.
To
practice what I preach, I’m going to try to use this blog more to explain what
the team is thinking about in the field, and why we’re thinking it, and how we
use the evidence we collect to test our hypotheses about how the Earth (and
Mars sometimes!) is working. That’s the goal for this coming field season (stay
tuned).
For
now, though, the fact is that you don’t have to be a professional scientist to
use scientific thinking to help solve your problems and answer your questions.
Most people work through problems like scientists every day. When you lose your
keys, most people don’t resort to supernatural explanations or invoke
supernatural solutions (I have one friend who does, but I think she’s an
exception). When you lose your keys, you start to thinking the problem through:
“Where did I see my keys last? On the night stand, of course!” Then you test
your hunch, your hypothesis, by looking on the nightstand. And, of course, your
keys aren’t there. But that’s okay. That’s not the end of science or the end of
your search. You’ve just disproved your first hypothesis.
That’s
one thing about science and scientific thinking, you have to get used to being
wrong. It happens a lot. The universe is big, and complex, and rather
more wonderful than we tend to assume it is at first. So when we brainstorm
ideas about how it works (or where our keys are), we tend to be limited by our
own experience and the limits of our own imagination. I think this is the point that many people stop looking for answers from science. I've been tempted lots of times to give up an investigation when my prize hunch turns out to be off the mark.
The
good news about disproving a hypothesis is that you can rule it out. Even being
wrong tells you something that you didn’t know before: “I thought my keys were
on the nightstand, but they’re not.” So now, armed with more information, you
can make a better informed guess—you can form a new hypothesis.
What is
on the nightstand is cat fur. And the cat was jumping around on the nightstand
last night, which she loves doing. So maybe she’s part of the puzzle—maybe she
bumped into the keys. And here’s where science is great—you already know
something about how this process could work. Science builds on well-established
knowledge to make more discoveries. You know that if the cat bumped your keys
off the nightstand that you should probably check the floor under the
nightstand first, rather than the bookshelf above the nightstand. That’s
because you know that gravity tends to pull objects down towards the earth’s
center, not up away from it. So you put it to the test, and there they are!
Problem solved!
This
might seem like a silly example, but at its core, this is how scientists work
every day. They think things though, they test their ideas out, and they build
on tested knowledge that already exists. Where your keys are is a completely
different problem from something a biologist might want to know (like wherewhale sharks disappear to every year), but the structure of
how the scientists went about solving the problem is fundamentally the same.
So if we
want to improve our nation’s science literacy, maybe the first place to start
is encouraging everyone to think like a scientist whenever they can. The
scientific method is slow, and it’s fully of blind alleys (the keys are not on
the table). It’s frustrating to be wrong so often (they keys aren’t on the
table, or under the table, or even on the bookshelf above the table—I checked
because maybe my wife picked them up off the floor!). But as you work through
all the options, you learn more at each step. You learn about things you
couldn’t even imagine at first. You’re always learning, even when your
hypothesis turns out to be incorrect. And if you stick with it, you can find
answers to even your hardest questions. In the end, there’s no better, more
systematic way of learning about the universe around us (or, other important
things, like where you put your keys).