Researchers Realizing Need to Make Case For Their Work

BUFFALO, N.Y. -- Remember the Superconducting SuperCollider?

Now just a big hole in the ground in Texas, the SSC would have been the most powerful particle accelerator in the world well into the 21st century. It was to be funded with $8 billion of taxpayer money.

With that kind of money at stake -- before Congress voted to kill the project -- public debate was heated and prolonged. Not only did the controversy trigger a new round of "small-science-versus-big-science" disputes, it also underscored the perennial rift between politicians, academics and citizens who value scientific inquiry in general and those who think that such efforts are a luxury, to be funded only after education, urban infrastructure and other domestic problems are fixed.

Particle physicists tried to make their case to all kinds of audiences. During one televised scientific meeting, a young researcher went as far as to note that without the SSC, the Star Trek transporter would never become a reality.

Whether or not the analogy was on the mark, remarks like those, made to underscore the value of research, are on the increase. Fueled by today's extremely competitive research climate and efforts to cut federal government funding for research, the pressure is on to make science not only relevant to the citizen on the street, but also exciting.

Scientists are coming to the realization that it is not enough to do great research. It's equally important to inform those outside of the scientific community about what they do and its implications for the public good and social progress.

"Since I entered science, there's never been a time that I didn't feel I had to convince someone to fund my work," said Linda M. Hall, professor of biochemical pharmacology at the University at Buffalo. "But now it's a harder sell. There are more people competing for fewer dollars. What was exciting and novel and fundable even five years ago is now routine."

For scientists who started their careers in the 1950s and Œ60s, when funding for science was seen as the responsibility of the federal government, the ability to "sell" or promote one's research wasn't nearly as integral to their success.

David J. Triggle, dean of the UB Graduate School, noted that "after World War II, and for the next 25 years of increasing prosperity, there was an accepted national commitment that the universities would do the nation's research in return for funding.

"The federal government," he added, "is now in the process of breaking its contract."

Joseph Tufariello, dean of the UB Faculty of Natural Sciences and Mathematics, noted that today there are more pressures than ever on scientists to target their research.

"Politicians used to say, ŒI don't understand it but I'm willing to support it,'" he said. "That period is over; now they say things like 'Fix the ozone layer.'"

In a sense, Triggle said, research has been too successful.

"People expect research to continue and to enjoy its benefits, but they don't want to have to pay for it," he said.

Just how far scientists should go in making their case, whether it's to a funding agency, a company or an academic or public audience, varies in each discipline and with each individual. Yet with funding opportunities growing tighter -- the American Association for the Advancement of Science estimates that reductions for nonmilitary scientific research could reach 23 percent by 2002 -- more and more organizations are stressing the importance of communicating about research.

Professional conferences now offer workshops that tell scientists how to communicate with non-technical audiences.

Speaking at a recent meeting of public information officers from institutions that are members of the Association of American Univrsities, Neal Lane, director of the National Science Foundation, said "it's time for the science and technology enterprise to embrace reaching out to the public. In more personal terms, researchers need to engage in genuine public dialogues with their local communities, in the mold of what I have come to call the Œcivic scientist.'"

He added that before he became head of the NSF, "I was accustomed to speaking to scientists around the world and to students, but only rarely to groups outside the research community. Now I've come to see how vital it is to reach beyond the converted -- to the local Rotary club, the local radio talk show, community forums of various kinds."

Lane said he has become so convinced of the importance of communicating about research, he thinks training for it should become an integral part of a scientific education so that those involved in research can convey "the complex link between science and technology and social progress. Preparation for research careers has not included this dimension, and most of

us could use some help. I have been urging researchers to seek out and take advantage of the public affairs resources available at their institutionsŠin making a compelling case to the public."

Lane's view is shared by many UB researchers, in part because the skills that come with communicating with nonscientific audiences also are necessary when approaching funding agencies. "Communicating with funders is a lot like communicating to the public," said Keri Hornbuckle, UB assistant professor of civil engineering. "Most of the time, you send in your proposals to a panel where the people are really smart, but they don't know about your field."

Often, she continued, reviewers will base their decisions largely on the established funding and publication record of the scientist, a practice that puts junior researchers at a disadvantage. But whether a young scientist is preparing a dissertation or writing his or her first grant proposal, the emphasis lately is not just on good science and publications.

To a growing group of faculty, making the connection between basic research and future applications is becoming critical and they urge their colleagues -- particularly younger ones -- to do the same.

For example, one of Hall's graduate students is preparing for a defense on his work with a drosophila (fruit fly) gene. "Someone might look at that and say, well fruit flies aren't relevant to anything," she said, "but it's a gene that happens to be very close to a human homologue that causes cardiac arrhythmias." Including and stressing that kind of information in a grant proposal was always to one's credit, said Hall. "What's new is the extent to which you have to do it," she said.

In fact, many young researchers take that responsibility as a given today.

"It's a question of ethics," declared Hong Luo, UB assistant professor of physics. "As scientists, we are asking somebody else -- the taxpayer -- to pay for this, so what we do has to be commercially useful or otherwise important to the average person. You have to be able to explain your science to a high school student," Hong said. "High school students are the future of everything, they're a much bigger audience than college students. We need to target them."

According to Hong, whose research has resulted in the world's first flexible semiconductor, complex issues must be translated into understandable language for the widest possible audience. He noted that the American physicist Richard Feynmann used to say that if you cannot explain your work to a college freshman, then you do not understand it well enough yourself.

"Even issues like the black hole have to be explained in plain English -- or plain Chinese, for example," Luo said. "You have to have a cartoon version of your science."

their field is something they and their colleagues need to do. Those that have done it note that it is a learned skill and that scientists must be careful about what they say -- and when they say it -- to the press.

Huw Davies, UB professor of chemistry, who is working on developing new compounds to treat cocaine addiction, recently encountered a situation where he questioned the timing of the release of information. Several of his collaborators at another institution were about to release information about their work to the news media. Davies is glad he opted not to be part of the announcement. In his opinion, the work, which has not been published in a peer-review journal, was not ready for general release.

"I thought it was premature," he said, "and it's a danger to push a theory or an idea too far before one really knows the answer. You can publish a paper on the results because that's where you can present your concerns and doubts. But when you popularize something, you often do not go into the details of that critical assessment; you often just go with the theory."

Once research is ready to be released, scientists face the problem of how their work will be interpreted. "Some scientists refuse to speak with the press because they want total control on how their work is conveyed," said Hornbuckle. That's not completely appropriate, she said. "As scientists, we have to learn to let go a little bit," she said. "We have to find the angle people like about our work and to say ŒYes, I work on that part.'"

While some researchers disparage attempts by "superstars of science" like the late Carl Sagan to bring science to the public through the news media, Hornbuckle noted that they are actually doing other scientists a favor.

Hornbuckle, who works on how pollutants affect the environment and who has plumbed the depths of some of the Great Lakes herself, noted that, for example, many scientists in her field really hate Jacques Cousteau. "They think he spends time making pretty pictures and that what he's doing isn't really science," she said. "But I really like what he does because it makes people think, ŒOh that's cool; do more research.' These people are doing a job that's hard for a lot of scientists to do. They should be our heroes."