Agreeing to Disagree

“Disagreement agrees with me.” –Mike Pesca, The Gist

Honest opinion and in-good-faith disagreement seem rare in today’s media. Now, that statement may first conjure up the millions of blogs (ahem) that are nothing but opinions. But! I would challenge the ‘in-good-faith’ clause of many of those. The press, on the other hand, shies away from opinion in order to present an even-handed account of ‘both sides’.  (We’ll cover the value of the he-said-she-said approach to reporting another time, perhaps.)

Hence the brilliance of unleashing Mike Pesca upon the world in his new show, The Gist, on Slate. A short, daily podcast, The Gist typically covers around two topics from the personal (advice column follow ups) to the curious (the state of candy Peeps) to serious current events, like Ebola. And Pesca’s energy and, yes, opinion, permeates the show in a way I find refreshing. The ending segment, the spiel, is Pesca ranting—rant doesn’t need to be a bad word here—on the same mix of anything from the fantastic to daily minutiae.

Friday’s spiel was an argument in favor of arguments, couched in the context of debates on HBO and CNN around the very premise of Islam. Is it a bad religion or a good religion? You can, I’m sure, imagine some of the simplistic arguments on either side of that simplistic question. But Pesca was not diving into the specifics, but rather encouraging the exercise. Strip away the personal attacks and you have the basic elements of a debate. “There was a struggle over the definition of terms. There were competing assertions as to what the relevant facts were. There was a thesis offered…” Counterpoint. Counter-counterpoint.

Although Pesca cops to the increasing tendency to devolve into “shouting or bullying or baiting or clapping at the dumb parts,” he calls out for a (possibly imagined?) past when argument was intended not to make your side feel better, but to reach through the column to the undecided, even the other side. Because these are different constructions, of course. The cheerleading argument is much simpler and easier than well-framed persuasion.

I’m not sure that Pesca is imagining the supposed golden age of discourse quite right. Regardless, I would like to see his vision realized today. I think of the ongoing conversations St. Louis is having over the events in Ferguson, and now in the City as well, about black youth and police behavior. Many of my conversations are civil and respectful, with participants vulnerable enough to provide honest opinions and to be swayed by good-faith arguments and to stand comfortable in disagreement. But a fraction (and a majority online, unsurprisingly) of these conversations are sadly reduced to choir-preaching and name-calling. Disagreement is taken as evidence of treason. Even skepticism can be anathema in the wrong circles. That’s sad. Because as our society grapples not just with the inequities of race, but with our stance toward Islam, our approach to immigration, or our rights and responsibilities on the world stage, we need disagreement. The called-for ‘public debate’ after every significant moment must be both. To shut down debate is to shut out progress.

I think one thing wrong with our conceptions about disagreement is the tendency to write off opinions that are not our own far too quickly. But, as Pesca notes, “if the argument is sound, and if the disagreement is honest, then an expressed opinion doesn’t need to be subscribed to in order to be valued.” There is no debate without disagreement. No progress without debate over the facts and over our values. Let’s not squash that with conflict-aversion or simplistic name-calling. Let’s embrace it.

Unless, of course, you disagree.

Towers of Illinois

You’re driving north in Illinois. The sun set hours ago, a hundred miles back. It’s dark out. Black. Your headlights hardly cut into the inky night, barely enough to see the road in front of you. To your right, some unknown distance ahead, you see a flash of red dots, like an oilrig on the horizon, and then they’re gone. As if the rolling hills and the highway shrubs and prairie grass obscure your vision every hundred feet or so, they appear and disappear just on your periphery. But then it becomes clear, it’s not the terrain that makes them blink in and out of existence, but the lights themselves are pulsing in unison. Dozens of faceless towers announce their location for all to see, all at once, then disappear. Like the synchronous fireflies of Southeast Asia, they appear somehow sentient. As you approach closer, the pulsing red lights illuminate the towers, as blades turn slowly, silently, in the wind. Three blades, lit for a moment and towering over the landscape for miles, like the devastating, tripod creatures from Mars sent to conquer in War of the Worlds. Though unmoving, they seem, here at night, working in unison, like they could decide to uproot themselves and lumber over farmyards toward the nearest town…

Wind turbines are one of several renewable energy resources being developed as we grapple with the impacts of burning fossil fuels and climate change. The EPA, under President Obama, has set the goal of reducing carbon emissions by 30% by 2050. Illinois currently receives 4.7% of its power from wind and ranks 4^th for total megawatts installed in the States. Many wind farms are on actual farms in the rural areas that you can see from the highway. Missouri generates only 1.3% of its energy from wind, with an installed capacity just an eighth that of Illinois. Ameren, my provider, plans to add 400 megawatts over time, while KCP&L currently provides about 540 megawatts in Kansas and Missouri, and Kansas ranks 3^rd in the country with 19.4% of its energy coming from wind.

These plains states have a great potential for developing wind energy as the wind famously tears through the open prairies and farmlands. Although wind energy cannot provide the constant, base supply of electricity needed at this time, it is a powerful component of a balanced energy portfolio that can help meet our national goals of curbing carbon emissions.

…You’re driving south in Illinois. The sun is up, but hidden behind a sheet of clouds that the wind pushes east. You come close, seemingly within inches, of dozens of towers, their blades turning lazily to meet the breeze. Soundless. Less eerie in the sunlight, they are still imposing. Standing evenly apart, quietly waiting for night to fall to organize. Biding their time until they can announce themselves, saying ‘Here I am!’. So that, if they ever decide to pull out of their foundations and wander, at least we’ll know where they are.

(Edit: Okay it turns out I totally unconsciously stole the idea of War of the Worlds etc. http://xkcd.com/556/)

Narratives in Science Communication

The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, an eminent scientific journal, recently published a Supplement focused entirely on science communication. I was happy to see this arrive in my inbox from my mentor because not only do I want to work professionally as a science communicator, but I also want my fellow scientists to recognize the importance of this endeavor and focus on the presentation of our work to non-scientists. Frankly, I expect it will be easier to get a job if people give a damn. And my motivations for wanting to get into science communication are several, but among them is a desire to see the issue of talking about science taken seriously and worked on by scientists of all kinds.

(A note: The full articles are open access and available to all. So take a look!)

There are twelve articles in this Supplement and I have yet to churn through them all, but I want to present a summary and commentary of one in particular. I think it is representative of some of the accomplishments and limitations of this kind of scientific writing on science communication.

Titled “Using narratives and storytelling to communication science with nonexpert audiences,” this article by Michael Dahlstrom argues that, despite storytelling’s un-scientific nature, it is an effective form of communication that should be leveraged in our efforts to speak with non-scientists. Contrasting narrative with the “logical-scientific” form of communication common within scientific groups, the author notes how scientific communication aims to remain general and true across contexts, while narratives are inherently tied to a specific context for their meaning.

Drawing on social science research, Dahlstrom points to the primacy of narrative in the human brain. We think in narratives, we speak in narratives, we muse over the past and plan the future entirely in stories. An intrinsic property of human thinking is to prioritize narrative over the less-familiar scientific forms of thinking we have developed over the centuries. It’s presented as an evolutionary advantage for our social species. So, harnessing the power of narrative to drill into the psyche provides an advantage to anyone using the form, including scientists.

Dahlstrom goes on to take the media as an example: forced to compete for an audience’s attention, media naturally gravitates to the powerful narrative format that connects with people. Yet there are limitations—in column inches and in accuracy—to the ability of this kind of narrative journalism to capture scientific workings.

Finally, the article concludes by pondering ethical issues. Should scientists try to bring the public to the right answer, or engage them more on the process and be open for debates? Who decides when it is okay to lead people on in the name of the greater good? Should narratives be used at all, given their limitations in accuracy? Specifically, Dahlstrom questions whether non-scientists will respect the narrative form, given their expectation that we will be speaking in scientific terms.

Well, to answer that, I’d say take a look at Radiolab’s Twitter followers (153,000).  Of course people respond to narrative! This article is powerful in its direct take on the fallacy that narrative has no place in scientific communication, and its reliance on social science research to conclusively prove that point, and in its visibility for other scientists.

Ironically, because it is after all a scientific article, this contribution is itself an example of the blunt instrument that is scientific writing for communicating with an audience. A couple quotes that feel both clumsy and self-evident: “individual people generally act in a timespan that more closely matches the frequency of news publication.” Or, in reference to narratives: “Obvious examples include interpersonal conversation, entertainment television programs, and news profiles…” The fault is not with this article per se, but this article itself demonstrates some of the limitations of this format.

I am fascinated by some of the ethical issues raised. Using narratives to communicate science is a no-brainer to me. But how do we best use them? What about representativeness? Stories rely on the power of a single example to demonstrate something grander. But if that example is chosen poorly, then the audience arrives at the ‘wrong’ conclusion. Or, perhaps worse, if an unrepresentative example is chosen deliberately to lead an audience to the ‘right’ conclusion, then we contend with acting unethically and losing the trust of our audience.

Finally, the article raises some questions that cannot be succinctly answered. My favorite: What is the best way to communicating beyond the human scale? We are built to consider timescales of days, maybe years. Not billions of years. Not nanometers or lightyears, not the mass of the sun, or the movement of electrons, or the probabilistic nature of biology. Through careful deliberation we can consider all of these. But in narrative format, every metaphor feels inadequate and we are left with great challenges to communicate the real science performed every day in a way that is engaging, accurate, and relatable. 

I am glad to see this conversation going on at the highest levels. I hope other scientists are reading and listening. Maybe next time, we should tell them a story about it instead.

Audio File #2: In the Dust of this Planet

Radiolab is a breathtaking exploration of scientific and philosophical topics. Each season is tragically short, but it is always worth the wait for each new show. Jad Abumrad is a former composer and a MacArthur ‘Genius’ Fellow, Robert Krulwich, an award-winning and inventive science reporter.

One of the most recent episodes, unfortunately Krulwich-free, is slightly out of the norm. Unlike many shows that are wonder-filled takes on science, it’s a little darker. The conversation revolves around nihilism. Specifically, Jad’s brother-in-law’s surprising cultural hit, an academic book on the topic called In the Dust of this Planet. What should have been just a contribution to philosophical libraries was sampled by True Detective, fashion magazines, and a video by Jay-Z and Beyoncé for their tour. The show asks: Is this evidence that nihilism is taking a greater hold in our culture now than before?

As a summary of nihilism, they paraphrase Nietzsche who called it “the most difficult thought”: that nothing about existence matters. We aren’t here for a reason. Life is not here for a reason. The universe’s existence is inherently meaningless. The question then, if such morose thinking is overtaking popular culture, is what draws people to that difficult thought? And what makes it cool?

Nihilistic thinking may draw people today because of uncertainty and disorder in our culture. Unlike past fears of the Soviet Union and nuclear annihilation, today we’re afraid of less-tangible carbon emissions and GMOs. And as our progressive society continues to push for social change and empowerment, individual agency reigns supreme. You can decide to be anything, or anyone. Each person is wholly in charge of their own destiny. But with that agency comes responsibility for constructing meaning in a complicated world. What if we’re just not prepared for that responsibility? Nihilism offers us an out—meaning can’t be had, so it’s not ours to construct.

Jad eventually distills the cool factor down to, “It’s not so much 'I don’t give a shit'. It’s 'I’m not afraid.'” In the face of meaninglessness—and our own mortality—facing those thoughts without fear is what gives a gloss of cool. Or as Brooke Gladstone, in a cameo from WNYC’s other wonderful show On the Media, puts it, it’s being a “badass.”

But the show is not all doom-and-gloom. Nietzsche considered nihilism only a first step. That to go forward into nihilism, to accept it and then move past it, brings us to “a re-evaluation of values.” And in fact love is what may be on the other side. Love in the face of nihilism. Love despite nihilism. Maybe even love because of the meaninglessness.

And in one of the greatest summary statements you’ll find today, the philosopher Simon Critchler takes us out: “In a world where love has been reduced to a series of Tinder exchanges… If that’s the hell that you’re living in as a 25-year-old, yeah you’re going to read these mystics [walking into the desert and burning their flesh for love of Christ] and you’re gonna say, ‘I’ll have what she’s having.’” Passion, even flesh-burning passion, is preferable to superficial exchanges that pass for personal relationships.

I think nihilism may be on an upward trend today because of uncertainty about our future and the many challenges we face and our grappling with the immense responsibility of our own happiness. And Tinder. But maybe what comes on the other side for our culture is a keener sense of love. Love for ourselves. Love for others. If so, maybe it’s worth the trip through the wilderness.

Climate Change and Midwest Agriculture

This year, farmers will collect a record harvest of corn and soybeans in the United States, according to the USDA. This is good news for a world increasingly concerned about both a growing population and the agricultural challenges produced by advancing climate change. Predictions by the United Nations put global population at around nine billion by 2050, with the possibility of this being the eventual stable resting point of human population due to decreasing fertility rates around the world. Global food production needs to increase substantially—around 70% according to the FAO— by 2050 in order to feed more mouths and increasingly affluent populations seeking more animal products. As a major breadbasket of the world, the Midwestern U.S. will play a significant role in meeting these demands.

As the capstone to the Workshop on Climate Change and Agriculture in the Midwest hosted by the International Center for Advanced Renewable Energy and Sustainability at Washington University, Professor David Lobell of Stanford University presented on his research into the impacts of climate change on agricultural production in the Midwest. 

Dr. Lobell had two themes: First, respect the problem. Although rising CO₂ levels may improve photosynthetic efficiency to a degree, the global increase in temperature is a net drawback to productivity. Second, we can address the problem rationally. Knowing how crops will likely respond to these stresses can help scientists identify the traits that can help meet production requirements.

The most dramatic impact of temperature increases will be reduced relative humidity. As the air warms, it can hold more water. Yet without an increase in water vapor, the relative humidity will decrease significantly. For us humans, that will hopefully offset the effects of hotter summers; we curse humidity in the Midwestern August. However, plants are exceptionally susceptible to humidity, especially when flowering.

In a tie-in to my own research, pollen, which comes to a sort of equilibrium with its environment, is easily damaged if the air is too dry when the flower opens. As it happens now, corn typically flowers during the hottest weeks of the summer, leaving its pollen susceptible to decreasing humidity. Less water vapor in the air also means the plant will transpire much more, increasing the amount of water needed in the soil to keep the crop happy and productive.

How do we combat this inherent weakness? Perhaps plant biologists can identify traits, or contribute new genes, that make crops use water more efficiently and protect pollen from excessive desiccation. Intensive research is being done in these areas already.

One idea that Dr. Lobell put forward was new to me, but apparently not to some farmers in the Southern United States: double cropping. With the right climate, fields can be planted with wheat in the fall to harvest in the spring, with just enough time left over to harvest soybeans in the fall. Under these conditions, flowering occurs outside the hottest months, and yield can be protected from the extreme heat to an extent. In fact, as the climate warms, Midwestern states will acquire longer growing seasons that make this option available to more farmers. Although this strategy does not necessarily out-produce the incredibly abundant maize crop, it is an example of alternatives immediately available to farmers even without significant improvements in crop germplasm.

Other strategies for helping crops cope with increasing temperatures will likely involve infrastructure, such as how to provide plants with enough water without losing as much to the soil and evaporation. Smarter irrigation systems may help in this goal.

The bottom line from Dr. Lobell’s talk is that adapting already-productive areas like the United States Midwest to climate change will require multiple strategies, because the effects of a warming world are multiple. This will require the sustained efforts of plant scientists, engineers, and innovative farmers. I, for one, am hopeful about the future of agriculture. Us humans seem to do a decent job of getting ourselves out of a mess, even if it is at the last moment. Let’s hope that’s the case here.