Last week, I went to an event at the University of Copenhagen titled “Science Communication: The Manhattan Project of the 21st Century,” which featured talks from Professor Brandon Ogbunu and the science writer Philip Ball. It’s always exciting to be in a room full of people thinking about the role of science writing in society (and it helped soothe some of the bummer of missing out on the National Association of Science Writer’s conference that just happened).
One theme that ran through both talks was the importance of placing science in context—particularly cultural contexts. To that end, the context that seemed to inform both of these talks the most was COVID, particularly the questions that the pandemic raised about the role and craft of science writing. How do we convey scale and consequence in the face of uncertainty? How do we address our own blindspots? These aren’t new questions, but they were given extra gravity during the pandemic. And that got me to a question that I didn’t even realize I had about science writing these days: is it possible to talk about science writing without talking about the pandemic?
My instinctive response is no, of course not. The pandemic was a centralizing, catastrophic event at both an individual and systemic level that forced us all to become familiar with the language of epidemiology and virology to make seemingly mundane choices. That’s a vocabulary usually reserved for people who need to know it, but the pandemic made us all start sounding like science communicators and data journalists as we figured out what masks would serve us best and whether it made sense to wash our groceries. And during that time, a number of science writers became much more known because of their role in making that language accessible and for situating it in broader discussions about the cultural factors that shaped the onset and spread of the virus.
Despite having become a science writer in 2019, very little of my writing has actually been about the pandemic. But today, even things that aren’t about the pandemic are still about the pandemic. It’s hard not to write about microbes and vaccines and health inequities without it being about the pandemic.
Of course, science writing is not just motivated by the pandemic. When I was just starting out in science writing, climate change felt like the main reference point for the urgency of science writing. I’ve said this before in a sort of half-joking way, but I think just about every article and book about the natural world in the past two decades is actually a climate change book. It’s just so baked into the world that you can’t not be writing about it, even if you’re not actually writing about climate change.
There’s something about the obviousness here that’s so fascinating to me. Of course climate change is affecting how krill move about the ocean. Of course the pandemic is still shaping the interpersonal conflict of a bar in Greenfield. But it also makes me wonder what it would be like to write about science today without these stories inherently being stories about COVID and climate change.
Take the title of the seminar: “Science Communication: The Manhattan Project of the 21st Century.” Are our metaphors and contexts for science writing always about disaster? I’m sure I’m not the only person whose foray into science writing was informed by shows like The Magic School Bus, and by a strong inclination to be a know-it-all about how the world works. I didn’t get into science writing to be a guide to the apocalypse, and I don’t even think that’s what I’m doing here. But the bad things are happening whether we’re writing about them or not, and so it’s part of the story anyway.
quick notes
- I’m going to be writing more about our move to Copenhagen, including why Copenhagen and how the move has been going, so let me know if there are other things you want to know. You can just reply to this newsletter, or send me a DM on IG (okidokiboki)
- some thoughts about The Life of a Showgirl: Encore
- Patient Zero: love the violins and chorus, hate the fact that the verses and bridge feel like they’re from a different song. The music video is good but I wish she didn't always feel the need to have a heavy-handed skit halfway through.
- Cleveland!: They will never make me hate cheesy-in-love Taylor. This is a good song, I love it.
- Pink Clouding: So good, I feel like this could be a Midnights song, which is a compliment.
- Babylon: I love the chorus, the rest is fine. I’m sure I’ll be obsessed with it in a month.
