A recent article in The Guardian newspaper outlined 9 ways in which scientists demonstrate they don’t understand journalism. Judging from the number of re-tweets it received – 581 at my last count – it struck a chord with many readers.
Scientists and journalists are often at loggerheads because their respective professions emphasise completely different skill sets. Scientists stress the importance of facts by amassing large amounts of evidence with which to support (or not) theories via painstaking experiment and replication. This is an anathema to the journalist who prefers the big picture, generalisations, snappy quotes, one or two facts, anecdotes and emotion.
As media trainers we know that scientists care if their work is misunderstood by journalists (and the wider public) because we often come across talented people who claim all their problems would be solved if the public only understood ‘the facts’. But the longevity of scare stories such as MMR and GM, combined with a massive drop in the number of European students choosing to study science, suggest that there is clearly something wrong with this approach in its current form.
We work with many different types of scientist and the constant challenge is that ‘scientific fact’ is almost always communicated in a form that fails to connect with non-specialist audiences. Findings are often presented in chronological data sets which are often divorced from context or wider social impact. Furthermore, results are often not clear cut, making them unpalatable to a hype-obsessed media and a scientifically illiterate public in possession of some contradictory views about what it means to accept ‘risk’ in their daily lives.
A group of African Americans with high blood pressure were able to control their condition better after hearing stories from fellow sufferers
Let’s be clear – of course facts are important for communication because they provide objective evidence and back up to any argument. But there is a growing body of literature (think Chip and Dan Heath, Daniel Pink or Peter Guber) which suggests that storytelling is a powerful tool not only for making core messages memorable but also for persuading people to do things that scientific data alone can’t. And by storytelling, I really do mean a narrative sequence of events with a clear beginning, middle and end.
A recent study monitored a group of African-Americans with high blood pressure who, as part of their treatment, listened to or watched stories of others with similar problems. After hearing how the characters in the stories were able to control their blood pressure through simple methods like being careful about their diet and taking exercise, they were able to control their illness as effectively as another group taking extra drugs for the condition.
Obviously this is just one case where a story may have been instrumental in changing the way patients responded to ‘treatment’ and changed their behaviour. But there are countless other ways – such as communicating the progress of trials or dispelling scares – where storytelling could be the scientist’s most powerful tool for persuading others of the realities behind an issue.
The world of science is full of incredible tales. But all too often they are buried because they are deemed ‘unscientific’. Our prescription for better communication of science is first recognise that communicating with a general audience requires very different skills to writing an academic paper. Second, nurture and recognise the good communicators in your team or discipline (we find they are often persuaded to communicate less effectively by group pressure), and third, if its really important and you have the funds, hire people like us who can help you find and craft the stories that will make your data convincing.
Science is a human enterprise – and scientists could benefit hugely by remembering this when they need to communicate with the rest of us.
Laura Shields has been working with Robert Matthews, a science journalist, to develop media training workshops that help scientists of any persuasion to communicate powerfully and accurately, while also challenging opposition spin.
There’s a clue on the main staircase of the Dom Zhurnalista, the House of Journalists, in central Moscow. 
Russia’s principal journalists’ society waves the flag of freedom of speech and a pluralist press. But in pride of place on the staircase towers a bust of Lenin, the man who crushed the brief flowering of democracy in 1917 and provided the intellectual and ideological justification for 70 years of suffocating censorship throughout the communist world. Twenty years after the collapse of communism, it’s still there.
“You have your information and I have my information,” as one executive put it recently. He wasn’t referring just to selective statistics. “Informatsiya” (information) just means a version, serving the interests of one group or another, not an objective, universally-accepted truth that can serve as the basis for negotiation.
Lord Young, who at 78 had taken an unpaid role as the (UK) Prime Minister’s Enterprise Advisor, lost that job yesterday because of a public storm around 
And because he believes in the argument, he expresses it forcefully. In fact the comments perfectly fit the ‘sizzle, numbers, example’ formula we teach in Media and Presentation training. So for sizzle or quotable language we have a repeat of the Macmillan phrase ‘never had it so good’ -note this sums up the whole argument. This is followed by some numbers to prove the point: 100,000 lost public sector jobs is just a ‘margin of error’ in the context of the 30 million jobs in this country. And then he brings it down to the level of an individual family ‘anybody with a mortgage …who were paying a lot of money each month, are now paying very little money each month’.
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