An essay by Seppe van Bladel
On Fri Nov 29th 2024, Seppe van Bladel gave an invited talk at BE SciComm 2024 about the research he conducted as part of his Master degree of Philosophy which he obtained earlier this year. We gladly publish his essay in full on our website to raise awareness on the issue of epistemic injustice in scicomm and, perhaps even more importantly, what we should be doing about it.
With this essay, I want to take a moment to reflect on the question: what exactly is it that makes science communication successful? This time, I’ve decided to approach it a bit differently and start with a brief reflection on recent experiences.
Over the past period, I’ve been involved in quite a bit of science communication. I wrote a report and presented the findings to policymakers from Flemish universities and colleges, as well as to the National Expertise Center for Science and Society in the Netherlands. I also published an article in EOS Science Magazine and recorded a lunchtime talk for Scimingo and SciComm Academy. Beyond that, I even managed to convince a federal government minister and a BBC journalist from England to share the research on their LinkedIn profiles. These, I dare say, are examples of successful science communication.
However, the first time I spoke to an audience about this topic, things didn’t go as smoothly as I had hoped. A professor at a Flemish university started with a few critical questions about my methodology. Of course, this wasn’t an issue; it’s perfectly normal for a student researcher to be challenged to defend their approach.
So I responded to his critiques with substantive answers, explaining why his concerns about my methods were not justified. However, I noticed he had a hard time accepting my responses and kept repeating the same questions I had already addressed. Again, no problem. I answered them once more. But it didn’t stop there.
By that point, I started to feel uneasy. After all, as a student, you’re standing alone in front of a professor. Then, the discussion suddenly shifted. He began bringing up topics like identity politics, victimhood, woke, and similar matters. I replied that my research wasn’t about those things, but that didn’t help. At that moment, I felt completely cornered, defending positions that had nothing to do with my own research.
After this event, I found some comfort in realizing that the situation wasn’t about me as a person; who I am, or what my identity is. It was more about the topic itself, which I will explain in a moment. Even so, it didn’t feel good, and I was left with a bitter and uncertain feeling.
But now imagine how much worse it would be if the comments and questions were about you as a person; your gender, the color of your skin, or your religion. This is exactly what science communicator Julie De Smedt and I investigated for my master’s thesis.
We explored the experiences of 10 female researchers in Flanders to understand their encounters with what philosophers call epistemic injustice and testimonial injustice in science communication. In other words, we examined instances where their knowledge and expertise were dismissed due to identity-based biases held by their audiences.
This occurred in various contexts, such as conversations with journalists and policymakers, during public lectures, at science festivals and fairs, and even during educational walks in public spaces.
Broadly speaking, we identified four manifestations of testimonial injustice in our data:
being subjected to a very high burden of proof,
explicit ways of undermining knowledge claims and expert status,
implicit ways of doing the same, and, finally,
a general lack of willingness to listen or engage seriously.
While these manifestations differ, they all share a common feature: they represent a form of identity-based knowledge devaluation. In other words, this involves lowering the credibility, value, and relevance of researchers’ knowledge, expertise, and skills based on their identity. This goes beyond merely questioning or doubting their knowledge. It actively undermines and minimizes the credibility and intellectual contributions of female researchers.
Female researchers often experience a very high burden of proof during science communication due to persistent doubt, questioning, and interruptions. One participant illustrated this with an example of an audience member who dismissed her research during a lecture for ten minutes straight. I quote:
"You get those classic, yeah (sigh), comments. People who just talk for ten minutes about (…) and then completely ignore what you’re saying. And then I think, I’m not even going to keep trying to convince them." (P7, ethnic majority woman)
For another participant, a member of an ethnic minority group, this burden extends even further. She shared that sometimes she feels a white man might communicate her research more effectively, ensuring the message gets across. She explained:
"Oh, sometimes we think to ourselves, 'Oh, I’d almost rather have a white man present my research, something I’ve worked so hard on.' Because, as a researcher, you almost think, as long as my research gets attention, it’s not about me." (P3, ethnic minority woman)
Intentional undermining is another recurring pattern. For instance, a Muslim woman wearing a headscarf was deliberately interrupted during a science communication event in a very public space, and mockingly referred to as a "McDonald’s employee" to undermine her status as a scientist.
Other participants reported being pinned down in condescending ways to specific themes or statements. One researcher (P4, ethnic majority woman) described an incident with a male journalist who pressed her on an unrelated topic, projecting his frustrations onto her:
"I had this really awful moment with (…), as an interviewer. I could sense he was trying to offload his frustration as a man onto me. He started asking these questions (…) completely unrelated to my research." (P4, ethnic majority woman)
Implicit, less direct, and subtle forms of undermining were also present, such as reducing scientific contributions to personal passion or experiences. One participant described how her expertise was dismissed during a lecture due to her gender, ethnicity, and research topic. I quote:
"During the introduction, and then again in the closing remarks and thank-yous, the moderator kept thanking me for sharing my experiences and emotions. At one point, I corrected her and said that I’m here to share knowledge based on research and solid work." (P8, ethnic minority woman)
Finally, many participants shared how some audience members fail to listen at all, leading to distorted representations of their research in interviews or repetitive questioning during discussions.
When we asked about the emotions they experienced as a result of these situations, two sets of negative emotions emerged: hurt and insecurity on the one hand, as well as frustration and irritation on the other. For example, P2 said:
"I think that, because of the experiences I’ve had, I’ve just become more insecure about what I have to say." (P2, ethnic minority woman)
P6 added:
"Yes, mainly a lot of sadness. It’s not that, well... I’m not angry or anything, not at all." (P6, ethnic minority woman)
For P10, these experiences were mainly associated with feelings of frustration and irritation, particularly because she, as a Black woman, feels personally attacked:
"But it’s not emotional like, oh, stress about an exam or defending before a professor. It’s mainly emotional because your identity is being strongly attacked (...), like ‘how do I deal with that brown monkey.’ I know I’m being very blunt (...). And then you have to stand there really strong." (P10, ethnic minority woman)
To avoid these negative experiences, female researchers employ self-protection strategies, such as avoiding certain individuals and organizations, consulting with colleagues about their experiences with specific forms of science communication, supporting each other after negative encounters, and deliberating with colleagues about who should engage in science communication.
They also use proactive communication strategies, including speaking clearly and confidently, remaining cautious and friendly, and making their expertise known from the outset. P3, for instance, explained that she feels it’s necessary to highlight her expertise during an introduction to be taken more seriously:
"When I’m introduced as (…) an expert in (…), it’s not something I particularly want. But I realize I have to do it to be taken more seriously. Frame things a bit first, and then start. Whereas with others, people just assume they belong there, and that’s how it is." (P3, ethnic minority woman)
P10 described how she ensures her audience takes her seriously by employing sharp and assertive communication:
"Uhm. I make sure that everyone takes it seriously. I’m like, I know these are difficult topics sometimes, but I’m determined. I sharpen my intellectual, investigative, analytical knives to ensure it really hits home." (P10, ethnic minority woman)
Now, back to the question of the day: what makes science communication successful?
Our research reveals that the concept of merit alone doesn’t determine success. It’s not enough to speak clearly, adopt the right body language, or articulate your ideas well to be taken seriously as a scientist. For some, simply being a woman (of color) can lead to their scientific legitimacy being unfairly dismissed. Success in science communication, therefore, is not purely based on ability or effort. It is also influenced by identity, which is a deeply troubling reality.
Success in science communication is not purely based on ability or effort. It is also influenced by identity, which is a deeply troubling reality.
Now, what do the female researchers who experienced these challenges believe is important to create social change? Our study shows that they see combined efforts as essential. These include actions from higher education institutions, as well as science communicators and science communication organizations. According to them, such collaborations can have a much greater impact than isolated measures or individual initiatives.
First, institutions can offer reactive support, such as legal advice, psychological help, complaint and support options, and assistance from supervisors. In theory, participants view these as good steps, but two major problems persist.
The first problem is a lack of awareness. Six out of ten participants said they didn’t know where to go for help. P5 shared:
"But I honestly wouldn’t know where I could go with it, whether at my university or my university college, and whether they would take me seriously in this matter." (P5, ethnic majority woman)
The second problem is a lack of trust. Many participants don’t trust their institutions to help, often due to negative internal experiences with discrimination, harassment, and transgressive behavior. For example, P8 said:
"I have not turned to my institution for help because, again, I fear the institution. The most I would trust within the institution is my faculty. And, um, again, I have never tried to make use of the available complaint procedures." (P8, ethnic minority woman)
P6 shared a similar sentiment:
"And because I also experience such things internally, I don’t think I would know where to go or have the trust to talk about it, to be honest. So, I don’t think I feel safe at this moment to share that in any context." (P6, ethnic minority woman)
In short, institutions need to clearly explain what support is available, but they also need to improve trust and internal functioning. Female researchers must feel safe and secure before they will report problems with science communication. In addition, institutions can take preventive measures, such as establishing clear ethical guidelines for acceptable behavior during science communication sessions. Some researchers view this as important to ensure there is no confusion - both for themselves and for external stakeholders, organizations, or journalists - about what sort of communication is and what sort of communication isn’t appropriate.
According to the participants in our study, these measures alone are also not enough. They should be combined with science communication training sessions that go beyond just teaching the strategic aspects of science communication. Almost all participants mentioned that this was missing in current training programs. For example, P3 said:
"They never thought about you as a person, it was always about the content. How you communicate it, don’t talk too long, don’t talk too fast, and here, you’re supposed to raise your voice at the end of your sentence. Okay, but also, could you look at me and see that I am protected?" (P3, ethnic minority woman)
In short, science communication training should go beyond teaching strategic communication. It must also include awareness, prevention, protection, how to deal with negative experiences, bystander training, and other aspects of discrimination in science communication. Finally, the participants argued that this should not be optional, but a mandatory part of science communication training, aimed at everyone who can be involved in a science communication setting, and taught by experts in the field.
Now, of course, our study is exploratory, and further research is needed to investigate this phenomenon, both qualitatively and quantitatively. That being said, institutions and science communication organizations could already take action and make use of all the knowledge that already exists around similar topics. And with that, I will conclude. Thank you for your attention, and I am happy to answer any questions you may have.
Comments