Closing the Knowledge Gap Between Scientist and Nonscientist

Abstract

Takashi Tachibana , widely regarded as one of Japan's most prominent journalists, has written more than 30 books. Trained in French literature and philosophy, in the 1980s he began to cover scientific topics. His most recent book, Ten Billion Years Voyage , addresses scientific research in Japan today. I am a Japanese science writer. For years I have been writing about all aspects of science including neuroscience, molecular biology, evolutionary theory, x-ray astronomy, elementary particles, computer science, artificial intelligence, robotics, and space exploration. In short—to borrow Erwin Schrodinger's expression from What Is Life [*][1]—I am a man of keen longing for unified, all-embracing knowledge. Yet, since ours is an age of knowledge explosion, it is virtually impossible to know it all, or even for a reporter to cover it all. There are so many important fields in science, and their advancement is so rapid, that, like Alice's Queen of Hearts, I must run as fast as possible just to remain in place. Nearly all of my time is spent interviewing scientists in one field or another, watching their experiments, or reading their papers. Somehow I still manage at least to follow the most important scientific advancements. Yet, I have discovered that reporting what I have learned in terms that the general readership can understand is quite a different matter: It is far more difficult. In his classic work Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution , [**][2] C. P. Snow wrote that the chasm between scientists and literary intellectuals was so vast that they could not communicate with each other. For example in physics, Snow found the mid-20th century literati to be as ignorant about science as had been their Neolithic ancestors. And this situation that Snow lamented nearly four decades ago has only grown worse. The current level of basic scientific knowledge is so low that it is difficult to interest even the brightest layman or nonscience student in what modern science is doing. I border on despair at my inability to keep them interested long enough to correctly understand both a specific research project, and its aims. The chasm between scientist and nonscientist has widened to become a gulf. And it is the task of science and society to narrow that gulf through an intellectual shift of tectonic plates. Modern scientists can no longer expect to live their lives in proud isolation because most significant scientific research requires substantial funding. A fortunate few enjoy private sources—problems with benefactors are another story. But in most cases government support, that is, tax money, is required to get research started and to keep it from grinding to a halt. When especially large sums are involved, taxpayers can be inquisitive, cost-conscious, and prone to finding fault, and in a democracy they must be taken into account. But public support requires a modicum of public understanding. If a project is very expensive, such as the superconducting super collider (SSC), or involves a highly controversial issue such as when human life begins—as in the debate over the use of near-term embryos for research—the final decision will always be political. Yet political decisions are not always rational, since public emotions can easily be influenced by irrational arguments. Vagueness, anxiety, fear, or abhorrence often prevail over rational judgment, and incorrect or even hostile (it is “absurd,” “extravagant,” “useless,” or “diabolical”) commentary about certain kinds of research spreads quickly. C. P. Snow was talking mainly about intellectuals. But today the reactions of ordinary people and the mass media matter more. Since politicians are easily swayed by their perceptions of public opinion, key to promoting wise political decisions about scientific matters is a sound understanding of science among the general population and the media that feed, reinforce, and mobilize its views. Alas, that understanding is presently lacking. T