13th December, 2006, The Daily Telegraph

The 2006 Awards Launch Article

By Lord Rees

Occasionally, great science has been fine literature as well. Charles Darwin's 'Origin of Species' was a best seller, as well as an epochal contribution to science. Its impact on general culture was immediate and profound. But that was an exception. In glaring contrast, the 1866 paper reporting the classic experiments by Gregor Mendel in his monastery garden, was overlooked for decades. It is a scientific tragedy that Darwin never learnt about Mendel's work, which laid the foundations for modern genetics.

The works of a present-day Mendel would not languish undiscovered in a remote library --most scientific papers now appear on the web as well as in journals and can be retrieved within seconds. However, the immense expansion of scientific activity leads to an 'information overload' that neither Darwin nor Mendel confronted.

Millions of scientific papers are published, worldwide, each year: they constitute what scientists call 'the literature'. But this immense wordage bears the same relation to real literature that military music does to real music. The papers are addressed to fellow specialists; they typically have very few readers.

This vast primary literature needs to be sifted and synthesised-- otherwise not even the specialists can keep up. That is why the Royal Society is supporting the launch of the Bayer/Daily Telegraph science writer awards. We need new talent to make sense of the burgeoning literature and to help bridge the widening gulf between what is written for specialists and what is accessible to the average reader. I doubt that any 21st century theories could be presented to general readers in such a compelling and accessible way as Darwin's ideas were.

Einstein's ideas have penetrated our culture, but few read his original works. The barrier is especially high when ideas can be fully expressed only in mathematical language. Indeed, that barrier already existed in the 17th century.

Newton's greatest work, the Principia, highly mathematical and written in Latin, was heavy going even for his distinguished contemporaries like Halley and Hooke. Other authors distilled Newton's ideas into more accessible form -- as early as 1730 a book appeared entitled 'Newtonianism for Ladies'.

Today, science pervades our lives more than ever: it is a challenge to distil and interpret it, and skilled communicators are more essential than ever. Newspaper articles and broadcasts about science deepen my respect for the journalists who prepare them. I find it hard to explain, in clear language, even something in my specialist field that I think I understand well. Journalists need to cover sciences unfamiliar to them, working to tight deadlines.

They face other challenges too. Few senior editors or media 'gatekeepers' have any real background in science; if a topic reaches the front-pages, the input from specialist correspondents can be hijacked and distorted. Moreover, the scientific community is itself not always helpful. Some scientists are uncommunicative. Especially in the US, other scientists (or their institutions) sometimes 'hype up' their contributions -- reporters now have to be as sceptical of some scientific claims as they routinely are in other arenas of public life.

Science generally only earns a newspaper headline, or a place on TV bulletins, as background information when there is a natural disaster, or health scare, rather than as a story in its own right. Scientists can't reasonably complain about this any more than novelists or composers would complain that their new works don't make the news bulletins. Indeed,coverage restricted to 'newsworthy' items -- newly-announced results that carry a crisp and easily summarisable message -- distorts and obscures the way science normally develops.

Scientific ideas are better suited to documentaries and features. The 'terrestrial' TV channels have the largest potential audience, but commercial pressures -- and concern that the viewers may switch channels before the next commercial break -- militate against any extended and serious argument. Fortunately, cable channels and webstreaming open up a niche for more specialised programmes. (Lectures given at the Royal Society, for example).

But the best vehicle for extended argument is still the written word. Many of the most successful science writers are interpreters and synthesisers rather than active researchers. Some have focused on particular areas of science --one thinks of the books by Matt Ridley, Simon Singh and Colin Tudge. Others, like Nigel Calder, and John Gribbin, who extend their interpretative skills over the whole of science -- and Bill Bryson has marvellously conveyed his zest for 'almost everything' to millions.

Professional scientists are increasingly willing to become 'amateur communicators'. Some achieve remarkable success -- for instance, Sir Roger Penrose reached the bestseller lists with The Road to Reality -- a book with thousands of equations that would challenge even a mathematical PhD. But the experience is salutary for us, even when we do it badly. Communicating to a general audience helps us to see our scientific work as part of a bigger picture. It is surely a cultural deprivation to be unaware of the marvellous vision of nature offered by Darwinism and by modern cosmology -- the chain of emergent complexity leading from a Big Bang of creation to stars, planets and human brains.

Hard-nosed and narrowly practical people may be unconcerned about the cosmos, or about evolution. On the other hand, medical misconceptions do matter to everyone. It is serious if people forgo conventional treatment through credulity about alternative medicine; or if their hopes are cruelly raised by false claims of miracle cures; or if confusion about relative risks distort their choice of health care (as happened over the MMR vaccine) . Here the media are crucial.

And it is not just medical issues that concern us. Decisions about GM technology, stem cell research, and energy policy are not solely 'scientific': they have political, economic and ethical dimensions. How science is applied and prioritised shouldn't be decided by scientists alone. These choices should be made, after the widest possible discussion, but also mindful of the best scientific evidence available. Public discussion won't rise above the level of tabloid slogans, unless everyone has some feel for the scope and limits of science. Here scientists, and science communicators, have a heavy obligation.

The hardest science for them to convey accurately is where there's strong consensus, but some dissent. Noisy controversy need not signify evenly-balanced arguments. Pioneering scientists have often had a tough time gaining a hearing. But the opposite often happens. Controversy (and a scepticism of orthodoxy) has such public appeal, and confrontations make such lively broadcasts, that dissidents are more likely to get exaggerated attention than to be ignored.

When an issue is controversial, readers need an indication of whether a particular view is widely supported, or whether it is disputed by 99.9 percent of other specialists. Of course the establishment may be routed and a maverick vindicated -- we all love to see this happening - but such cases are rarer than the public is led to think.

In reporting a scientific controversy, the aim should surely be neither to exaggerate uncertainties and risks, nor gloss over them -- and this is indeed a challenge, especially when institutional or commercial pressures distort the debate.

Once again, the surest way to ensure that one's views get through undistorted is via the written word.
Scientists generally dislike writing: for most of us, writing is a chore rather than a pleasure. In the 5th century BC, Zeno of Elia put forward a famous paradox to show that motion was impossible. Before you reach your destination, you must get half way. Before getting half way, you must get a quarter of the way; and so on. So there are an infinite number of things to do before you can get started. This is also the case when I have to write something: getting started is the hardest thing, I envy my colleague John Barrow: he can conceive a book and then write it fluently from beginning to end. But I never start at the beginning. My books have grown from articles, notes for talks, and so forth, which I have then tried to mesh together.

Present day students are far more fluent in writing than my own pre-email and pre-blog generation ever were, For them, the 700 word article required for these awards should be a doddle. This competition gives them a welcome incentive to develop the skills that will be crucial if we are to make wise choices in a future world underpinned by ever more elaborate technology -- but also more vulnerable to its failures and misuse.

Martin Rees is President of the Royal Society, Astronomer Royal, Master of Trinity College, and professor of Cosmology and Astrophysics at the University of Cambridge. He will also help judge the next science writer awards.