Soapbox Post

We thought Tuesday would be free day at the Seymour Marine Discovery Center at Long Marine Laboratory in Santa Cruz, but that policy, it turns out, does not apply in August. To be honest, I can’t blame them, given California’s economic woes. Anyway, it felt good to pay my $4 to gain entry into this UC Santa Cruz facility dedicated to teaching about the sea, its inhabitants, and our relationship with them.

For spectacular aquarium experiences, you go to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, with its huge tanks, interactive public feedings, plenty of charismatic mega fauna, and a hefty sticker shock. The Discovery Center is a more humble facility, but that’s ok. It’s not trying to be anything more than it is, and the staff do a great job of putting together exhibits that combine ongoing research with current, local issues. For example, I was able to read a few newspaper articles about the latest goings-on in local otter and sea lion populations (unfortunately for the pinnipeds, the news is not so good), accompanied by anecdotes and recent results from UC researchers. It’s great to walk outside and immediately see what you were just learning about.

What interested me most about this experience was the portrayal of science and scientists. The brochure tagline reads, “Hold a sea star. Think like a scientist!” Unlike many natural history museums, aquariums, and zoos, just about every display at the Discovery Center put the typical listing of animal facts into the context of how a scientist would ask about, and investigate these things. On the one hand, I think it’s nice to encourage people to think about where information comes from; on the other, we don’t need to view nature through the prism of science to have a meaningful experience, and not every animal fact is derived from a scientific study. What’s more, these info panels sure did perpetuate some stereotypes.

Here’s a sampling of what I learned about scientists and science during my visit:

-          Scientists are adventurous, curious, smart, devoted, and tireless.

-          Scientists lead exciting lives.

-          Scientists NEVER assume ANYTHING.

-          Scientists contribute to the well-being of the planet and its inhabitants.

-          Good scientists bring a “ragamuffin barefoot irreverence” to their work.

-          Our society depends on science.

Ok, so there may be plenty of scientists who aspire to be like this, but we all know that this is not a universal recipe for a researcher. Science is not a uniquely virtuous or adventurous career path. These statements could apply to all sorts of people and all sorts of careers.

Perhaps an institution such as this, which aims to inspire children about the natural world and the people who study it, should be forgiven for making such simplistic and dubious generalizations. The Discovery Center is as much about PR for the University as it is about educating (and of course, with the right approach those goals overlap). And they never imply that such personal and professional characteristics are unique to science.

But I can’t help feeling a bit uncomfortable when everything pertaining to science seems to imply this big, fat, unidirectional arrow flowing from science to the grateful masses. Never once do we hear about scientists benefitting from knowledge in other domains, or from working with groups that actually apply scientific results. It is always the other way around.

This kind of mentality translates easily into the sort of arrogance you find popping up in the opinion pages of venerable science publications. It reminded me of Science magazine editor Bruce Alberts, who claimed last summer that if everyone just behaved and thought like scientists, maybe we wouldn’t be in such a terrible economic mess; that “scientific habits of mind contribute critically to a nation’s success.” The two most obviously offensive aspects of this attitude are first, that particular ways of thinking may be exclusive to scientists and engineers; and second, that it is appropriate to blithely reduce the incredible diversity of that broad professional category to such simplistic generalizations.  (For a far more cogent critique, see Guston et al., 2009.)

I suppose every profession has a stereotypical, aggrandized self-image. But how many people truly believe that their own profession’s stereotype is (a) accurate and (b) capable of running the world better?

I guess this boils down to a plea for less hubris, and more humility when we talk about science and its role. It is quite possible to speak of benefits, good intentions, strong values, and even curiosity and adventure, without adopting a generalized air of superiority and entitlement.

About the Author:  Ryan Meyer is an ASU doctoral student in biology and a graduate research associate at CSPO.