Science as Storytelling, April 12

Try and think of some famous scientists. Maybe you thought of Galileo, of telescopes; Darwin, of evolution; or Watson and Crick, of DNA. These are people who have become household names, whose names are synonymous with a particular idea.

Perhaps you also thought of Carl Sagan or Neil deGrasse Tyson. Both have been criticised for having fame that outstrips their research contributions, dismissed by some as mere science communicators rather than scientists proper. But consider again the first names on the list: Galileo faced the Inquisition and still found ways to circulate his ideas. Darwin spent decades building a public case for evolution. Watson and Crick were skilled self-promoters in a fiercely competitive race. Each of them had to fight for their ideas in the court of public opinion and each became a celebrity in their own era.

The division between "real scientist" and "science communicator" may be less clear than it first appears. It is, in fact, the rare famous scientist who achieves lasting recognition without also becoming a public figure. This image of a public speaking scientist, widely sharing their work, runs contrary to the image of an anti-social scientist grinding away alone in their lab. It's a compelling image that the best researchers are too busy discovering things and too smart to care about anyone else. But the historical record (Galileo, Darwin, Watson, Crick, and many more) doesn't support it.

After all, to be a scientist, you must publish so that others can read, improve, build on, and argue against your work. Science is a cumulative and collective effort. However, formal publishing is only part of the picture. A journal article presents research as a clean narrative of hypothesis and result.

There is another, trickier level of science communication that doesn’t happen on arXiv or in leading scientific journals, but in person. Journal articles often frame research as a tidy narrative of a hypothesis and an answer, perfectly put in within the context of the surrounding research. But research is often more complex than this, involving darting down random corners or finding results that one isn’t sure where they might fit into the field. Narrative shaping often occurs in the shadowy corners here, when you talk to colleagues and get context for what matters. Extensive literature review can reveal what has already been done, informing your narrative, but it cannot tell you what people are thinking about next.

Well-known scientists excel at this. They know how to give a talk that frames their work in context and makes others want to listen. If in the middle of an academic dispute, they know how to make their ideas sound much more compelling than the other side’s. This is more of an art, a humanities topic, than understanding pure data. This may be called marketing. Their journal articles argue their topic well in that esoteric format, and they argue it in plain English out loud, whether in conversation or during a talk.

Science runs on money just like everything else. Even if you’re brilliant, doing brilliant work, you can achieve more with more resources. Much science depends on grant applications. Knowing how to tell stories well rewards scientists. Grant applications demand persuasive writing for why this science matters, why it matters now, and why this particular researcher is the one to do it. Secure the grant, and you buy time, resources, and credibility. That credibility, in turn, makes the next grant easier to win, the next talk easier to book, the next paper easier. Fame and money compound in science just like everywhere else.

The most well-resourced scientists are not just discoverers: they are storytellers and marketers of their own ideas. The names mentioned above may not need have been household names: they could have been forgotten for their work. Leibniz and Newton discovered calculus simultaneously, but we remember Newton now. While great science gets you started, communication gets you funded, heard, and remembered.