Should we have a third culture?

Yesterday a copy of John Brockman's The Third Culture arrived in the mail, and I was expecting it to contain a discussion about the modern mode of science popularization, or at least some insight into why many scientists decided to cut out the media middlemen and start writing books themselves. What I got was a collection of interviews (with the questions ripped out) and a whole lot of back-biting along the well-worn lines of evolutionary "pluralists" and "ultra-Darwinians," and the fact that the text is made up of interviews (rather than essays) undercuts the core of what the book is supposed to be celebrating!

I may finish reading The Third Culture tonight, but my general ambivalence about it is similar to my reaction to Michael Shermer's Why People Believe Weird Things (or, as it should have been called, People Believe Weird Things [h-t to Blake]). Rather than explaining how an understanding of science has become increasingly important, a part of a larger culture rather than a distinct subsection off to the side, each entry is a short autobiography in which the interviewed author goes off on their pet subjects. Stephen Jay Gould outlines what was to become The Structure of Evolutionary Theory and recalls the opposition he got to the famous "spandrels" paper he authored with Richard Lewontin; Richard Dawkins defends his technique of creating simple metaphors to explain parts of evolution, as well as rejecting assertions that he's an evolutionary zealot; Lynn Margulis castigates most evolutionary biologists for looking only at charismatic animals and ignoring microbiology, and she throws in her support for the "weak" version of the Gaia hypothesis.

The entries themselves can be interesting at points, but even more entertaining are the comments of other scientists featured in the book to particular figures. Some of the responses are a bit terse, even childish, and while some figures are generally revered (like George C. Williams), others evoke stronger feelings and criticisms (like Stephen Jay Gould and Lynn Margulis). Nearly half of the extra commentary is pretty inane, though, and adds very little to the main text.

For a book that is supposed to represent the "third culture," Brockman sure did a lousy job of organizing and executing the idea. The transcribed interview format doesn't let the writing skills of the authors come through, and while the interviews are generally readable they are often a bit dry and even snobby. Indeed, there is an air of scientific superiority in the book that will be sure to piss off people who attribute greater value to "classical" knowledge in the humanities (but then again I've been aggravated by enough people who claim that I'm not cultured because I haven't read the complete works of Shakespeare of Dostoevsky). Be that as it may, the book is primarily a collection of scientists who often seem to be talking past each other, reinforcing the stereotype that I imagine they're trying to break.

As I've written before, effective science popularizers seem to be very rare. Even within the realm of people who publish popular books about science, there are very few who are able to convey information about the natural world in an engaging and accurate manner; there are plenty of people who make facts plain in both senses of the term. Some have claimed that this is a consequence of the sociology of science, scientists not wanting to "talk down" to readers because that's not the way they speak to colleagues. Even if this is true in some cases, the fact of the matter may just be that skilled writers are few and far between, and eloquent authors who focus on science are even more rare.

Although scientists are making amazing discoveries all the time, the joy and excitement many of us feel about such subjects is all-too-often lost in translation; marveling at the grandeur of the workings of the universe and what it contains is somewhat unfashionable, even though such feelings are what spurred many people to be scientists in the first place. When a scientist does allow themselves to express the wonder they have when studying the processes of a cell or the structure of a skeleton or the behavior of a molecule, they are often charged with producing "purple prose" or have the pejorative term of "popularizer" stuck to them, that they're contributing to the vulgarization of a "respectable" discipline.

The present problems with science communication are not only a result of mediocre writing skills or the diminished view of popularization the some scientists take. The public, aptly described as "consumers," have not developed much of a taste for science. As important as science has become, for many people it concerns itself with questions that won't pay their bills or put food on the table, and therefore requires little attention. If it's not interesting, why take an interest in it? Such a view is absolutely dismal, but many people have a somewhat narrowed view of science that is primarily good for creating medical and technological advances; the rest can safely be ignored.

Indeed, science is often seen as a separate culture, off on its own away from the more "accessible" and traditional idea of culture in art, music, and literature. Popular science books, even if well-written, are often considered as a kind of specialist literature, not truly worthy of being included under the umbrella of "literature," again thanks to a narrow definition of what literature is. As Ralph O'Connor has argued in The Earth on Show, however, popular science books can (and should) be understood in terms of style, historical context, and other factors more usually considered when thinking about classical literature. They are not kitsch or oddities to be put aside, but important works that have just as much intellectual importance as any work of literature that is required reading in English 101. Such interest would perhaps be more academic, but the point is that popular science books still suffer from critics "judging a book by its genre."

I hope that I'm wrong, but I have the feeling that we're in a bit of a lull as far as good popular science writing goes. Two of the best, Carl Sagan and Stephen Jay Gould, recently passed away, and I'll be interested to see if Richard Dawkins is able to pen a worthy successor to The Ancestor's Tale when his new book Only a Theory? comes out. Next year might see some other good popular books, being that it will be the bicentennial of Darwin's birth and the 150th anniversary of the publication of On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, but I'm not going to hold my breath (there's been an active Darwin industry pumping out books for the past few years, some better than others). Still, I have a bit of a biased view. As an avid reader of science books I try to keep up with who's publishing what, both in terms of popular books and technical ones (at least in areas of paleontology & evolution), but most people probably don't share the same concern. I will continue to ponder science popularization and read the books, but it's rare that a real hit like A Brief History of Time or A Short History of Nearly Everything pops up.

I doubt that any one book is going to "save" science popularization, though, and perhaps more important is the improvement of news reports. Science journalists need more scientific training and more people with scientific understanding should be trying to get involved in mass media communications. We all bitch and moan about how inaccurate news reports are, but unless we actively become engaged in this sort of reporting (infiltrating the "system," as it were) our complaints will essentially make little difference outside our own little circles of science enthusiasts. Science bloggers are starting to change this and may play a bigger role in the future, but if we're to ultimately improve science communication in the media more people with a solid grasp of science are going to have to get involved in the active generation and promulgation of stories rather than just complain about the result.

In all, though, science popularization suffers from many of the same problems it did over a century ago. Popularizers are considered to be bastardizing science by some scientists, portions of the public are interested but are still way of science overstepping its bounds into the realm of religious dogma, and some writers (try as they might) just aren't that good. I don't see any solutions to these problems other than to keep trying and encouraging talented writers to keep at it. If science becomes closed off to the public, locked behind heavy lab doors and in dusty archives, it will be a terrible tragedy, and I hope that popular writers continue to pound away at their keyboards in order to act as guides to nature.