Many science bloggers are responding to the call for a “Just Science Week” by posting only on scientific topics. I’m not joining them, since this blog is about the intersection of science with other things, and posting only on science would rather defeat my niche. However, it occurred to me that since I started this blog, I haven’t included enough pure science in the mix. The reason is simple: when you are not affiliated with an academic institution, you have no access to most journals. It’s hard for me to keep up on the trendiest science right now, except through my fellow bloggers, and it would be redundant to recap what they’ve already effectively blogged.
My isolation has been quite an eye-opener. I don’t think I ever really appreciated how difficult it is for the average American to access current scientific information before. Think about it. Suppose you have a family member with a rare autoimmune disease, and you need to know what the latest research is on the topic. First, you’d better have at least a basic science education, just to wade through the terminology (immunological jargon is especially bad). Then, you have to decide how you’re going to search for information – on the web? The web is accessible; even if you don’t have it at home, you can go to a public library. But especially with health topics, you are going to run up against misinformation from a variety of sources – well-meaning but uninformed amateurs; the soundbyte-seeking, oversimplifying mainstream media; enthusiasts basing broad generalizations on isolated anecdotes about their friends or relations; hucksters actively trying to rip you off by promising the latest secret “cure” (which the pharmaceutical companies are always “suppressing”). If you don’t already know something about science, you’re not going to be able to tell the difference. It’s not like pseudoscience has a warning label.
An alternative is to go to the nearest research university library and look directly in the reputable peer-reviewed science journals. There will be no hucksterism, no woo, no pseudoscience. (Well – almost none). But your relief will last about five minutes, because as the average high-school-educated American, you won’t understand a word of the typical Science or Nature or JAMA article. Even the reviews will probably be inaccessible. And if for some reason you can’t get to a university, you’ll have access only to the free journals like PLOS or PNAS, which (according to Murphy’s Law of Journals) will never, ever be where the needed article was published. Grrr.
Falling somewhere between the two extremes of veracity are science textbooks. Unfortunately, the time required to write, edit, and publish a text means they’re all slightly out of date. But they will equip you in relatively clear language to deal with the concepts in the JAMA article you’ve photocopied, but still can’t read. Of course, you’re going to pay to become equipped. A 2004 CALPIRG study found the average textbook price was $102; since science/health texts are usually “bundled” with CD-ROMs and feature profuse full-color illustrations, they tend to cost more. (I never used these multimedia bundles in any of the classes I taught; they were usually a waste of students’ money. According to the CALPIRG study, 65% of faculty agree with me).
Choosing a textbook can be a painful process for a professor. When I taught developmental biology last year, I had four excellent texts to choose from, ranging in price from about $80 to about $120. Not only did I consider price, I also considered how long the text was, how much detail it went into, what topics it covered, and what prior knowledge it assumed. I read three of the four texts cover-to-cover over my summer “vacation” (which fortunately was an enjoyable task). I concluded that the best, most authoritative book (Gilbert) would be far too detailed for my students; the prettiest, simplest book (Wilt and Hake) was strangely more expensive than the best book; the cheapest book (Slack) would have to do. I felt like Goldilocks, except unfortunately none of the texts was “just right”.
Midway through the semester, I realized that the most expensive book probably would have best served my students. The biggest pitfall of teaching a new class for the first time is that despite thorough planning, you can’t anticipate exactly what your students will need. Still, since about 10% of the class said they couldn’t afford to buy the cheapest textbook, and didn’t buy it, I was glad I hadn’t required one that was 50% more expensive!
In 2006, state legislators in Washington, Virginia, and Connecticut passed bills to prompt professors to choose affordable textbooks and limit booklists to materials which are absolutely necessary. Other states are considering similar legislation. It doesn’t hurt, but I think it’s sad that the lawmakers (or the constituents to whom they cater) think professors won’t consider these issues unless forced. I too was a student, not so long ago. And I always considered what my students could afford; after one mortifying case of sticker shock, I also verified a book’s “real” price on Amazon before making my choice. Still, I didn’t want to sacrifice accuracy or efficacy or clarity. Even when a textbook is very, very good, most students can’t simply read it, internalize it, and master it without help. That’s why we still need lectures and office hours.
Anyway, if choosing a text was so hard for me, imagine what it’s like for our poor, JAMA-puzzled, autoimmune neophyte. Where to even begin reading? Who to ask when the inevitable questions crop up? It’s far easier to become a self-taught artist or chef or historian than a self-taught scientist. It’s simply unjust that even science-hungry citizens are so poorly supplied with access and resources, they can only with immense effort remedy their own illiteracy.
Fortunately, scientific blogs are filling a gaping hole in public access to science. Most bloggers make a point to aim their posts at the typical literate web user, not just scientists. Science blogs are often written by actual scientists who are bilingual in English and JargonOfMyField. Blogs are free. Blogs hyperlink to additional references. And blogs are self-regulating – a network of bloggers who trust and respect each other is sort of like a peer-review system; as a reader, you can be comfortable that the information you’re getting from a respected, trafficked, well-linked science blog is fairly, if not perfectly, reliable. If you have any doubts, read the comments. It’s really a lovely system.
So even though I’m not participating in Just Science week, this is a little shout-out to all the bloggers who are. Bravo, y’all.
Beautifully said. I originally started my blog as a way to explain myself to my parents and friends (non-scientists). I doubt any of them read it now. I found it boring to tread through the muck of basic concepts. Once you have the BSc, you don’t want to relive it all the time. There are bigger fish to fry. That being said, I often feel that science bloggers are preaching to the choir. Especially the anti-creationist blogs. I mean, can you imagine a creationist reading Pharyngula and reconsidering their position? Anything is possible I suppose. But as an educated individual, you have to try and do what you can.
I agree that bloggers have the potential to be an excellent resource for people who have no other sources of information. The issue is that many people would never consider turning to the blogosphere for answers, despite the fact that the community is based on the principles of free information. If anyone ever asked me for information that I was qualified to give, I would certainly do so. Even though most bloggers try to write in an accessible fashion, maybe the blogosphere has yet to mature into a resource that the average person would turn to in times of need.