Information is a resource in politics and policy. Information can indicate that a problem compels action. For example, while conducting research into the effects of supersonic airplanes on the atmosphere, scientists serving as Science Arbiters investigating the effects of the stratospheric exhausts of space vehicles and supersonic airplanes learned that a commonly used family of chemicals long thought to be benign – chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs) – had the potential to damage the ozone layer that helps to protect life on earth. These research results created political uncertainties where previously there was none – for decades CFCs were widely used because they appeared to be inert. The new results suggested that action might be needed to deal with an environmental threat. This information put CFCs on the agenda of government and industry decision-makers (see Andersen and Madhava Sarma 2002).

Information also can show that the policies advocated by one group are more apt to lead to desired outcomes than policies advocated by another group. For example, when industrial scientists conducted research to develop cost-effective substitutes for CFCs in the early 1980s, their research expanded the scope of options available to decision-makers, and the new options served to more closely align the interests of environmentalists and industry and thus helped to mitigate political opposition to CFC regulation. Evidence that showed the viability of alternatives thus was an asset for those seeking the phase out of CFCs.

Our time is characterized by new demands upon scientists in policy and politics. But experience and research show us that science is well suited to contribute directly to the resolution of political conflicts only in the most simple of decision contexts. In more complicated contexts, looking to science to enable a political consensus may in fact compromise both the odds for consensus and the valuable role that science can provide to policy-making. In the light of these findings, which some scientists may admittedly find uncomfortable, this book considers options available for scientists in policy and politics.

The arguments presented in this book have benefited from, and indeed are derived from, a large literature on Science, Technology, and Society (STS) and Science and Technology Policy (STP). For many scholars of STS or STP the arguments presented in this book may be quite familiar, even old news. But my experiences over the past decade and a half working on a day-to-day basis with many scientists suggest that, with some notable exceptions, most scientists, including social scientists, are simply unaware of the understandings of the scholarly community who study science in society. Hence, it is appropriate to view this work as an attempt to connect scholarly understandings of science in society with the practical world of scientists who increasingly face everyday decisions about how to position their careers and research in the context of policy and politics.

The central message of this volume is that scientists have choices about if, how, and when they decide to become actively engaged in policy and politics. And how such choices are made has consequences – for individuals, the scientific enterprise as a whole, and the broader society of which they are a part. Recent times have seen increasing demands for scientists to be active in politics and policy. Each of the four idealized roles of scientists in policy and politics described in this book has its place in responding to such demands. However, it seems that one role in particular – the Issue Advocate – overwhelmingly threatens the others, particularly that of the Honest Broker of Policy Alternatives. Issue Advocacy often takes a stealth form in which scientists characterize their role as Pure Scientist or Science Arbiter, but are really using their scientific authority as a tool of advocacy.

Issue Advocates have a noble role in any democracy. Like any other citizen, scientists can of course always decide to sign up with their local political party or favorite advocacy group and lend their stature and expertise to their cause. Taking such political action lends the legitimacy and authority of science to a political cause, but it also has consequences for both science and policy. In particular, to the degree that science is simply mapped onto existing political perspectives we will see science overshadowed by politics, and a continued reinforcement of the twin trends of the scientization of political debate and the pathological politicization of science.

Imagine that a visitor has come to town to see you, and wants to find some place in town to eat dinner. Being a local, you have expertise that may be useful in helping the visitor make a decision about where to dine. How might you provide information relevant to the decision on where to eat?

This chapter uses this story, with you as the central character, to illustrate four different ways in which you might interact with your guest. These four modes of interaction are very much ideal types; the real world rarely conforms to such distinctions. But the four different roles in fact do reflect practical differences in how scientists (and other experts) relate to policy and politics. Behavior by scientists providing counsel to decision-makers does necessarily approximate one ideal type more or less than another. Thus, these four different roles, while idealized, do reflect that scientists face practically meaningful choices in how they act in the context of policy and politics.

One choice that you might make in providing advice to your visitor is to serve as a Pure Scientist. You may decide that you really have no interest in the visitor's decision-making process and simply want to share some fundamental information about factors involved with nutrition. So you might provide your guest with a copy of the US government's official report, Dietary Guidelines for Americans, which describes the characteristics of a healthy diet.

To find issues where questions arise about the appropriate roles of scientists in policy and politics, it often seems that one need only open up the morning paper. Whether the issue involves national science academies, government advisors, environmental, corporate, or other interest groups, or individual scientists, many contested public issues today involve science and scientists. To stimulate discussion and application of the framework provided in this book, this appendix provides several case studies. In each case, ask yourself,

• What decisions are faced by individual scientists or science institutions?

• And what are the consequences?

• Are the issues characterized by values conflict or consensus? Certainty or uncertainty?

• What are the consequences of serving as a Pure Scientist, Science Arbiter, Issue Advocate, or Honest Broker of Policy Alternatives?

These cases are merely a point of departure for exploring the role of scientists in policy and politics in other issue areas that you will no doubt come across just about every day.

Applying the Framework I: Honest Brokers of Policy Alternatives

Throughout this volume has emphasized the importance of Honest Brokers of Policy Alternatives as a role for scientists and other experts in policy and politics. But who are such honest brokers?

In practice they could be any expert or collection of experts, but far more likely from the standpoints of practicality and legitimacy, Honest Brokers of Policy Alternatives will be a collection of experts on a committee or other formal organization.

It is characteristic of the science and politics of the early twenty-first century to see scientists actively engaged in political debates, and particularly as related to the environment. For example, when a 2003 paper in the journal Climate Research argued that twentieth-century climate variations were unexceptional in millenial perspective, advocacy groups opposed to the Kyoto Protocol predictably hailed the research as “sound science,” while advocacy groups in support of the Protocol called the paper “junk science” (Regalado 2003). In this case, more troubling than the “cherry picking” of scientific results by Issue Advocates is that many scientists' evaluations of the scientific merit of the Climate Research paper correlated perfectly with their public expressions of support for or opposition to the Kyoto Protocol on climate change. Acceptance of the paper's conclusions was equated with opposition to Kyoto, and correspondingly, rejection of the paper's findings was equated with support for Kyoto. For example, one prominent climate scientist (on record as supporting Kyoto) suggested in testimony before the US Congress that the paper must be bad science because the editor who oversaw its publication had been critical of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change and the Kyoto Protocol (Collins 2003). And the editor (a social scientist who is on record as opposing Kyoto) of a different journal that published a second version of the controversial paper commented, “I'm following my political agenda – a bit, anyway, but isn't that the right of the editor?”

This chapter builds on the discussion in Chapter 3 of science in policy and politics by asking one question:

• What are the implications of different degrees of values consensus in decision contexts for the role of science in policy and politics?

The chapter answers this question through an extended “thought experiment” – an exercise in the imagination – that describes decision contexts that share some surface similarities, but suggest vastly different roles for science and expertise in the actual process of decision-making. Thought experiments allow the thinker to create carefully constructed, hypothetical scenarios in order to highlight aspects of the real world that are typically difficult to see or somehow obscured. Politics and policy are concepts that are often conflated and difficult to distinguish, making it difficult to understand the role of science in decision-making. The thought experiment introduced below uses two scenarios to highlight the importance of the context of decision-making as a critical factor that shapes the interconnections of science, politics, and policy. This chapter builds upon the more general discussion of science and decision-making in Chapter 3 to explore in some detail the importance of political context for how we think about the role of science in decision-making.

Abortion Politics and Tornado Politics

The significance of information in decision-making, and the types of information that are significant for decisions, are a function of political context – specifically, science plays a different role in situations of values consensus and low uncertainty than in the opposite circumstances.

The science that is discussed in a scientific presentation, like the science described in written proposals and reports, can fail to make an impression if the presentation is lacking in clarity, organization, and interest value. Therefore, learning how to give effective scientific presentations is as important in communicating your research findings as any written product.

The three main types of scientific presentation are seminars or colloquia, oral papers at professional meetings, and posters. Seminars and meeting papers are spoken presentations that differ primarily in length and, consequently, content; poster presentations are mounted on a panel and read by passersby. In this chapter, we provide suggestions for how to prepare and present scientific seminars and both oral and poster papers. Most of our advice is derived from our own experiences as speakers, members of audiences, and session or seminar organizers. In addition, Appendix A provides tips on how to write clearly, many of which apply to construction of slides for oral presentations and creation of poster papers.

Seminars are usually allotted an hour or so, with the expectation that the speaker will talk for about 45 minutes and will answer audience questions during the remainder of the time. Meeting presentations are usually limited to 15 or 20 minutes each, with the expectation that the speaker will talk for about 12 or 17 minutes, respectively, and respond to questions during the remaining minutes.

This appendix could be called “Some tips on how to write clearly” because it cannot – and does not attempt to – replace detailed guides on the subject of English exposition. We focus instead on issues and problems that arise frequently in scientific writing, as in grant proposals (Chapter 2) and research reports (Chapter 3).

Many writing guides are biased towards being prescriptive rather than descriptive. That is, they prescribe what writers should do rather than describing what writers do. Part of this bias results from the very nature of such guides; it is easier and shorter to say what to do than it is to explain why or to show that good writers do things in the way prescribed. The other part of the bias results from selection: those who write guides tend to be philosophically prescriptive about language.

It is with some trepidation that we offer these notes about how to write clearly because they inevitably appear, and often are, prescriptive. English has become the world language because it is forgiving in so many ways. Any writer can violate many of the so-called rules and still be understood. Truly good writers see through awkward prescriptions. For example, everyone knows the following “rule:” never use a preposition to end a sentence with.