Also available as a podcast here.
The problem
I’m not from a particularly academic family. Neither of my parents went to university and whilst my dad was a very practical, hands-on person, my mum is much more interested in words than ‘facts’. Having said this, my grandfather studied Physics at Imperial College in London and was by all accounts, fiercely intelligent. But his love of science was not passed on to his children. In fact, from what my mum tells me, his attitude was very discouraging. He would explain things, then get frustrated when nobody understood his complex words. He published articles on and patented an electron discharge device (mainly known as klystrons). But I only discovered this (some time) after his death, because he had simply given up talking about his work with his family, because he didn’t possess the ability to explain it in a way we’d understand.
Some years later, whilst doing my PhD, I began to find myself in the same situation. To me, understanding ‘The Role of NagC in Yersinia pestis and Yersinia pseudotuberculosis Biofilm Development and Insect Transmission’ (my actual PhD thesis title) was easy and obvious. But when my parents asked me what I’d been doing that week, I quickly realised that it wasn’t obvious to them. At all. It wasn’t a lack of interest. My dad especially was fascinated by what I was doing. So much so that he came to see the laboratories I worked in and even let me take his blood when I had trained as a phlebotomist to feed my lice and fleas (something that was incredibly brave!). It was more a lack of accessibility. Because science trains scientists to speak in a different language.
If you’re a scientist, you’ll know what I mean. You are encouraged from undergraduate level to use highly technical words when writing or talking about your research. It’s almost an unwritten rule that the more complicated your language, the more knowledgeable and intelligent people will think you are. When writing scientific papers, journals press this too, by setting very low word limits, encouraging unintelligible acronyms, shorthand and citations. Even other scientists (even if they’re in related scientific fields) sometimes struggle to understand them. It’s no wonder that non-experts like my parents wouldn’t even want to hazard a go at reading them.
The sea change begins with us
Whilst the older generation of scientists (like my grandad) may have less appreciation for the importance of engaging the public with science, younger generations are becoming aware of how useful (and fun) it can be.
In fact, scientists were given an important lesson in the importance of scientific communication when the COVID-19 pandemic hit the world. There have since been many reviews (such as this one from the UK’s NHS) about what lessons the science community learned from the pandemic. Most of them state that we need more, and better, communication to ensure the public trust the actions of the government/ health authorities etc. That’s not to say of course that public engagement will convince everyone, there will always be some people who prefer to believe ‘alternative theories’. But it’s important to gain the trust of those we wish to help (in the case of public health). I also think it’s important to remember that the public (in most countries) pays for the majority of research undertaken (in taxes). If you’re a scientist, chances are, the public pay, at least in part, your wages and for your science!
Another angle I have been thinking about recently is public engagement in other countries, especially low- and middle-income ones. Fostering trust in modern science and technologies is a much more complex concept in a lot of places, for a number of reasons. There is a greater reliance on traditional medicine and healers, as they’re often trusted more by the community (especially elders), are more available and often far cheaper than accessing doctors. Not that traditional medicines are necessarily bad (or modern medicines always good). The WHO and many other organisations are trying to tap into the potential of these remedies. There’s often a suspicion or mistrust of government advice, as often community groups may not believe that government advice is in their best interest. Another really really important one is the ever-present shadow of colonialism. Traditionally, science has been the domain of rich, high-income countries who can afford to spend the millions (or billions) needed to achieve it. The global north has been guilty of parachute science (also known as helicopter, parasitic or neo-colonial research) and quite rightly low and middle income countries want to take charge of their own science (something that PANDORA-ID-NET aimed to facilitate, with African scientific leads and capacity development facilitated by the global north partners like us at UCL, developing open access training resources). Often medicines aren’t tested on certain ethnicities, or are developed and produced in high-income countries (the COVID-19 vaccines were a good example of this and has driven an African initiative to produce vaccines within the continent).
There’s an even greater incentive for low- and middle-income researchers to develop public engagement materials in the context of their own countries (and I’m very happy to help support anyone with this if they are interested!). I also feel increasingly strongly that global north health researchers like me must help create the link between us, and foster a greater trust between the global north and south.
Let’s get simplified!
I really wanted my parents, friends and the wider community to be able to understand my (and other) scientific research. I researched how to get involved in scientific communication and joined some online courses. This is what led me to create this blog and also the accompanying podcast. This is why I make sure I write an accompanying plain language summary of all of the papers that I get published. I try and write the manuscripts themselves in as simple a way as possible but Journals (or rather the scientists they get to review them) often come back with requests to change it (that’s a bigger problem in itself)! The fact that it’s going to take some time to make scientific articles accessible led me to write this blog article on understanding research papers (for both scientists and non-scientists).
What can scientists do to try and engage with the public and ensure that their science is accessible? There are loads of resources online about how to do this, and if you’re interested it’s worth having a look around. Here are some suggestions that might help you get started…
1. Write plain language summaries of your papers (and make sure they’re open access)!
One of the best ways to ensure everyone can understand your research is to write a ‘lay’ summary. The website Plain Language Summaries is a great place to deposit them. They’re peer reviewed and have a digital object identifier (DOI) and so are citable. They’re also open access, meaning they’re not behind a pay wall and are therefore free and available for anyone to read. There are lots of websites that can help you write them, such as this one from Taylor & Francis, or this article by Dormer et al. (which, although scientifically robust, I would argue based on the title alone, it’s not practicing what it actually preaches!)
2. Get your science out there (in whatever way you want)!
Perhaps you’ve been inspired by my own blog, and want to start writing about your own science and experiences? Or maybe you’re a whizz with animations, or an expert Tiktokker? Perhaps (and bear with me here, I’m thinking out loud…), you’re brilliant at singing. Maybe you could create a podcast where you sing about your science??? There are loads of ‘media’ options to get your work out there, it all depends on what you love to do and what you’re good at. It also looks really good on your CV, as many research funders are seeing public engagement and Patient and Public Involvement as increasingly important. Even if you’re not ready to start something yourself, there are a number of blogs/podcasts/YouTube channels etc. already out there and it may be worth exploring them (and even contacting them) to get inspiration/experience. There are loads of websites that can help you get going, including these ones with top tips for starting a science blog, writing a good podcast or making great videos.
3. Get involved in public engagement activities and events
These are often really good fun and a fantastic way to really get involved with the public! There are lots of really great initiatives, such as Pint of Science, the Royal Society’s Summer Science Exhibition, or even Dance your PhD (yes really). Most universities and societies have their own initiatives, and many have small pots of funding to help their researchers undertake more science communication activities. And if your institution doesn’t have any public engagement schemes? Well, perhaps you’ve been inspired enough to start one yourself!
Conclusion
It’s our responsibility as a new generation of scientists to foster trust between the scientific community and the general public and if you are an early career researcher (or a scientist at any level) reading this, then I hope you feel inspired to start something, however small.