Yesterday I met Serge
Haroche, the 2012 Nobel Prize winner in physics. While Prof. Haroche wasn’t the
first Nobel laureate I had met in my time at the University of Chicago, he was
definitely very impressive and in many ways rather inspiring. What got me
the most about the way he interacted with undergraduates during our very casual
breakfast event was definitely the fact that despite having benefited from the
current academic and scientific system he was very openly critical of it and
supportive of others’ being, if nothing else, skeptical of the ways in which
scientific funding or application processes for tenured positions work. The
rather capitalistic model in which science is only funded for the short term, where
every project has to meet certain milestones; the way in which graduate
students are often treated as interchangeable, passive, cheap labor; the
pressure to publish obscurely-written papers in Science and Nature which
are both owned by private companies rather than being regulated by a physics
society of some sort; and the gender issue in physics were discussed in as much
depth as our guest’s scientific achievements. And while all of these topics
probably deserve a whole other set of discussions, the one thing that always
seems remarkably relevant to me in these conversations is the fact that people
that deal with funding or regulating science are barely ever scientists
themselves. In other words, the financial and logistical setup of academic
research today is heavily influenced by people who have never actually tried
their hand at running an experiment or posing a potentially fruitful
theoretical problem. Inevitably, this brings up the topic of what I’ve always
referred to as ’science education for non-majors’ and what it can do in order
to allow non-scientists in charge of funding scientific research to understand
its processes well enough for the posing of a sustainable, fruitful system of
regulation for it.
I’m always shocked to
learn how often institutions actually do conduct research on science education
and focus completely on optimizing the introductory major sequence rather than
the classes that fall under the umbrella of general requirements. Though I am completely
aware of the fact that I might be something of an elitist and that my
background definitely puts me in a position of privilege over many, I still
generally like to argue that most major oriented classes need to be in some
sense self-selecting in order for those that emerge as graduating physics
majors to have promising careers. At the same time, I would argue the exact
opposite when it comes to non-major or general requirement classes - no-one
should be able to opt out or sail through these classes. I always think of an
anecdote one of the Chinese faculty members in our department tells us about
being denied a visa because his project proposal included the word ‘atomic’.
The administrator making a connection between an ultracold atomic experiment
and the atomic bomb very likely didn’t receive very good science education and
yet was allowed to decide on whether someone, who went on to be very
successful, should be granted a work opportunity. Yet, thinking of a typical
physics class in which all that is discussed are crates sliding down inclines,
springs, and pendulums and in which all that is ever taught is how to plug
numbers into equations that might not even work out every time, one shouldn’t
be surprised to learn of mistakes as the one described above. Science education
that goes beyond this approach seems to be rather necessary.
Another thing that
inevitably comes to mind is the fact that I once took a whole course on the
history and sociology of science and medicine and all I learned was that not
even highly educated sociologists have a very good picture of how science is
done on a day to day basis. A professors teaching this course routinely spoke
about the scientific method, falsifiability, and bias against publishing
certain results, while at the same time claiming that results found in
laboratories didn’t actually map to the real world, criticizing ‘big science’
like the LHC and LIGO from the perspective of someone that had only ever read
about these things in the newspapers, and very consistently claiming that too
much money was being spent in all of the big endeavors of physics today that
did not immediately shatter the current paradigm. The two other physics majors
in the class and myself rolled our eyes for ten weeks and put a lot of effort
into subverting the given essay prompts but it is reasonable to assume that
most of the other history or sociology students retained quite a bit of this
sentiment. The irony here is that these people will likely be the ones with
more power over scientific research than those of us hoping to pursue an
academic career in it. This sort of perspective combined with likely boredom
and utter confusion in any general requirements course can only work to convince
non-scientists that science is either not trustworthy or obscure or, most
horrifyingly, that it should be treated as any other capitalistic business
endeavor.
The natural question is
then that of what can we do about it and why haven’t we done that already? As
far as the first point I imagine that teaching less classical mechanics brute-force
plug-and-chug problems and more conceptually interesting, historically
important examples could do wonders for changing laymen’s attitude about
physics in general. Crates sliding down inclines are really not interesting at
all and without the drive to see what comes next, a drive that generally only physics
major students are bound to have, I cannot possibly see why learning about them
would be a pleasant memory for a future senator or a congressperson. Recreating
an experiment proving that electrons have spin and debating implications of a two-state
system for quantum computing ought to be much more fulfilling even if some of
the mathematical formalism and rigor is left out. The lack of modern topics in many
curricula seems to make people think that research has never quite gotten
beyond Einstein and Heisenberg which was by now more than 80 years ago! An
ideal physics class for non-majors, as I imagine it, would also include a
discussion session with real academic scientists and lots and lots of talk
about where funding comes from, how projects are justified, and how an academic
scientists deals with the logistics of their work on a day to day basis. Real
scientists live nothing like the crew on the “Big Bang Theory,” nor is
obtaining grant money as easy as getting a salary at, say, an office job. As to
why classes like this do not exist and why classes taught on science by social
scientists miss the mark so readily is something of a mystery to me. It is a
fact that academic scientists generally try to do research and nothing else
ever but that, in a lot of ways, seems like a consequence of the way the system
is currently set up. At the same time, scientists who are deeply invested in
thinking about science education and the ways in which the scientific community
interacts with the public definitely seem to exist and what they seem to be
lacking is some sort of a platform.
While the solution to this
problem is not even remotely clear to me, I do firmly believe that it is
important for young scientists who are already caught up in social media to
take advantage of it in order to try and implement at least some minor, gradual
change in the way others perceive science. We can’t all hold the social capital
of a Nobel laureate but anyone can yell on Tumblr.