Scientific and Technical Communication: Theory, Practice and Policy

Introduction

Not all of the public is attentive to issues of science and technology. But everyone expects science to have a role in curing disease, supplying alternative forms of energy and maintaining a certain standard of living. The future of science and technology in the United States will likely be marked by increased public participation in national and local policy-making. Science and technology pervade all aspects of life. Locally, and perhaps most directly, you are affected by the building of highways, airports, power plants and waste disposal facilities. Nationally, disputes over recombinant DNA research, AIDS research, the future of the space program, and international competition show that the development of science and technology continues to outpace the government's ability and mandate to offer comprehensive policies.

Over the past twenty-five years, there have been attempts to establish a framework for public participation in federal policy decision-making. Such involvment has been solicited in the National Environmental Policy Act (1969), the Federal Advisory Committee Act (1972) and the Freedom of Information Act (1974). More recently, the government publication entitled "Technology for America's Economic Growth, A New Direction to Build Economic Strength," outlined long-term initiatives and goals for American science and technology. These include innovation and private sector investment, world leadership in science, mathematics and engineering, and a national information infrastructure. The report also recommends that federal information be made available to a wider audience through "high-performance computing" (e.g., the High-Performance Computer Act of 1991), and policies aimed at making Federal information available to as many users as possible.

One source for the tension in policy-making decisions can be found in the conflicting images we have about science and technology as public nuisances or economic saviors.

Your professional and private interests and values, whether as an ambivalent bystander, an active participant, or a practicing scientist or engineer receiving federal funds, will sometimes conflict with the desires of other consumers and producers of science and technology. The resolution of these conflicts on both national and local levels requires a difficult and complex process of negotiation among a public with various degrees of expertise and interest. Some experts fear that increased public particiption in science and technology policy will encourage endless personal demands, expectations of risk-free technologies, and increased disagreement, all of which will "gridlock" decision making. Nevertheless, the public has a right to oversee and influence the way its taxes are spent. An unaware public may allow corruption of science and technology like the Defense Department boondoggles of the 1980's. In sum, those managing science and technology are trapped between the ideal of democratic participation and the practical problem of accomodating quite different levels of knowledge and interest.

Images of Science and Technology

Many see science and technology as massive, impenetrable, self-sustaining institutions occupied by experts who are separate from and unaffected by the forces which shape other social interaction. Others see science and technology as easily manipulatable tools, as extensions of humanity's nobler instincts. As with many issues, the truth probably lies somewhere between. Most admit that science and technology have been instrumental in both human progress and human destruction, as seen, for instance, in the wonders of space exploration and the horrors, for instance, in the use of atomic weaponry. Broadly construed, these are the images on which our conception of science, technology and public policy have been based. Public interest regarding national and local science and technology policy is captive to a set of naïve and reactionary views. These views pull both the public and policy makers in two directions, presenting science and technology either as the cause of humanity's problems, or as their solution.

Attitudes toward policy-making generally reflect a common-sense notion of how science and technology are structured and how their products (including knowledge) are made and distributed. In the example of nineteenth century psychology, the methods of natural sciences were understood to apply equally well to the study of individual behavior. In a sense, then, the "problems" of human behavior were understood as amenable to natural science solutions. The problems of science and technology policy have been cast in similar scientistic light. Given their own scientistic presumptions, science policy advisors often regard the problems of policy as amenable to scientific solutions. Nuclear fusion policy in the United States serves as an example. Largely unnoticed by the lay public, funding and research into nuclear fusion in the 1950's and 1960's was the result of an alliance between experts and member of Congress. Promised short-term results, legislators began to press for some evidence of the progress of the program. In the 1970's with public attention focused on the energy crisis and alternatives to fission reactors, funding for fusion research increased. In return for this increasing investment, scientists promised a return on investment after only another fifty years of research. In 1979, the Office of Management and Budget slated another $30 million dollars for research. Fusion scientists, however, turned down the money given the lack of progress (at that time) of the program. In 1989, however, two Utah scientists announced they had successfully created a fusion reaction at room temperature. Scientists immediately sought funding to replicate the experiment. Although the experiment was not replicated, and room temperature fusion has been written off as the result of instrument error or fantasy, funding programs have been resuscitated.

This example illustrates the cyclical approach to science policy and funding. Public and legislative interest in fusion depended on several "external" factors such as the energy crisis of the 1970's, the defense build up of the 1980's, and a claimed scientific breakthrough in 1989. Accordingly, once legislators realized the amount of money invested in research, they had difficulty scrapping the program. From a "scientistic" perspective the promise that science will eventually find a answer to a given problem, coupled with a belief that supporting scientific curiosity and freedom will yield economic benefit (in the form of technological spin-offs), keeps funding alive for many research programs. Beliefs in the eventual economic payoff of research are rational, according to policy makers, because of science and technology's history of success. Consequently, approaches to policy remain stagnate, critics argue (e.g., Fuller 1993, Hollinger 1990), because of the scientism of policy makers who believe that scientific practices will eventually lend solutions to the problems of science policy.

The myth of the autonomous progress of science and technology is the basis for both scientism and Luddism, and continues to vex policy makers. The historian of technology John Staudenmaier cites a guidebook for the 1933 Chicago Hall of Science "Century of Progress" Internal Exposition that captures the myth: "Science Finds, Industry (technology) Applies, Man Conforms." 1 Ironically, while scientists believe that scientific progress should not be hindered by cultural influences, Luddites believe that technological progress is inevitable must be hindered by fundamental intervention. Both scientism and Luddism stem from the common belief that science and technology progress absent any cultural influences.

Policy makers have also bought into the myth of autonomous progress which has led to an interesting case of circular reasoning. While "policy" by definition entails influencing the direction of a particular program, the essential nature of science and technology, according to the myth, already assures its own progress. The only decision policy makers really have is whether or not to help speed along progress by appropriating funds. However, while scientific and technological researchers may promise results within a specified time period (as in the above example of fusion policy) such promises rarely hold. This is particularly the case with "big-science" projects in which the promise of a return on investment will not be seen for decades. To complete the circle, researchers argue for continued funding on the grounds that (keeping in mind the myth of autonomous progress) an answer will eventually be found. While Luddites object to the dehumanizing quality of technology, and take action against it, many hold that since workers cannot stop progress indefinitely, they must eventually concede to losing their jobs and learning new skills. Progress, from the scientist's, Luddite's and policymaker's perspective is constant.

Methods and Myths

Another persistent myth that influences science and technology policymaking is the myth of a single scientific method. The scientific method can be defined as: a procedure involving an observation or controlled experiment which results in a hypothesis found valid or invalid through further experimentation.

The concept of the scientific method as we know it may be traced to several sources: most recently, a notion of reason derived from the 18th Century philosophical movement known as the Enlightenment, the idea that a thinker may separate her interests from a given situation and so make unbiased judgments about that situation. The notion was inspired in part by Isaac Newton's (1642-1727) assertion that scientific explanations should be derived strictly from observation and Francis Bacon's (1561-1626) argument that scientific reasoning should be based upon induction, a process by which a conclusion is drawn about an entire class of objects through the observation of only part of that class.

Many of us assume that the scientific method works in part because the scientist retains an open-mindedness, a disinterestedness and a healthy skepticism. 2 Further, many of us assume that a researcher's scientific knowledge is derived only from experimentation, and that her opinions do not influence her observations. But we forget that scientists and technologist are human beings who, like any human being, simply cannot be entirely objective. Several studies have shown that the qualities which compose scientific method only rarely shape actual practice. In fact, scientists and technologists are greatly affected by the world around them, and their scientific method is affected too. 3 Scientists have endorsed a great many theories not so much because they provided the best explanation or the most elegant set of mathematical principles, but because they were endorsed by a colleague or a professional society. Theories involving the discovery of oxygen, the motion of the planets, natural evolution, and special relativity gained acceptance over time not only through experimentation, but also because they became endorsed by influential individuals and groups. The lesson here, which should not surprise us, is that scientists and technologists can be persuaded by the same things which persuade the rest of us.

To understand the actual nature science and technology, and develop a basis for policy, we need to examine our view of the scientist and technologist.

Common Assumptions about Scientists and Technologists

Many of us have a "good guy / bad guy" view of researchers. On the one hand, we see them as saintlike pursuers of truth, a view reflected and reinforced by popular images of Albert Einstein, Albert Schweitzer and Steven Hawking. On the other hand, we may regard them as corrupted by personal desires for power, wealth, fame and (more recently) by corporate mandates, a view reflected and reinforced by Mary Shelly's Dr. Frankenstein and his literary and cinematic successors. A little thought will suggest that both these views are caricatures, and often have little to do with actual scientists.

Many of us have a romantic image of the scientist as a individual genius. The popular imagination sees Isaac Newton, Nicholas Copernicus, Galileo Galilei, Charles Darwin, and Robert Oppenheimer as mythic figures standing above society and politics, and unaffected by the 'ordinary' people who preceded and surrounded them. Again, common sense suggests that no one can remain apart from society and still contribute to it.

Many of us have imagine the scientist and engineer as a "great man", an idea that Newton, Einstein etc. were influenced solely by thinkers of equal or greater historical significance, also familiar names. The "great man" (emphasis on both words) idea overlooks the wealth of influences from two groups;1) women, and 2) men and women not written into history books. Women's roles in science have been obscured and little regarded in most histories of science; but the contributions of women like Marie Curie, Rosalyn Franklin, and Barbara McClintock are enormous. Similarly, the roles played by skilled laborers like metallurgists and carpenters are uncelebrated, even unrecorded; but Galileo could not have discovered the moons of Jupiter until an anonymous glassblower had created magnifying lenses.

One aspect of scientific discovery, the "Eureka" moment, is often portrayed as a researcher's personal revelation, the point in time when all the parts of the puzzle come together. (Watson and Crick's discovery of the structure of DNA is commonly perceived as such a moment.) Although this type of insight certainly occurs, we may be wrong to assume, as many of us do, that it arises without context and is attributable only to "genius", whatever that is. Students of the history of science are particularly troubled by this assumption in that it implies that such moments are forever beyond our comprehension. Such is simply not the case: "Eureka" moments can be understood when we examine them with a view to history and sociology, the contexts within which they appeared.

You may believe that men are better at scientific reasoning than are women. The idea may be part of a common stereotype that all men are rational and logical, and able to set aside the emotions, and that all women are irrational and illogical, and unable to approach a problem dispassionately. Obviously, such ideas are dangerous, among other reasons, because they set arbitrary and artificial boundaries to women seeking education and employment. 4

You may believe that certain groups have innate abilities in fields related to science and technology. A popular recent stereotype holds that Asians have innate mathematical skills superior to non-Asians. (In fact, the well-documented success of Asian students in the realm of science and mathematics has been attributed not to natural inclinations so much as family structure and values. 5) This myth too, is dangerous simply because it limits human potential.

Sources of Our Images of Science and Technology

We derive our images of science and technology, and scientists and technologists from news reports, textbooks, advertising, film and television, and, in some cases, personal experience. Except for the last, each of these sources is likely to offer an image that is incomplete and inaccurate.

News Reports

Most news reports about scientific and technological research are based upon press releases from institutions sponsoring that research; consequently, they are rarely critical and rarely detailed. Further, print and television media usually approach only "frontier" scientific and technological research, new discoveries which have not been confirmed. And here too, they rarely undertake a careful analysis. For instance, on March 23, 1989, Stanley Pons and Martin Fleischmann released to the press preliminary results regarding a successful room temperature fusion reaction. Although a firestorm of controversy surrounded the announcement, the news media chose not to use their own traditional investigative techniques, and relied instead upon the testimony of physicists and chemists who claimed to understand fusion. Consequently, the public's understanding of the case was derived from people immediately involved in the controversy, people who could hardly be expected to be impartial. And the image of science and technology reaching the public, at least in this instance, was both biased and superficial.

Textbooks

You may take for granted that the information presented in your science texts is true, and to a large extent you are right. But the image of science those texts offer is often inaccurate. Many textbooks present science as an entirely rational process, proceeding deliberately and straightforwardly. In fact, scientific discovery is often a case of someone recognizing possibilities made evident by an accident.

Percy Spencer discovered microwaves when, standing near a radar set, he noticed that the chocolate bar in his pocket had melted. Like many, this find was a fortunate accident. Still, many textbook writers, because they ascribe to the myth of scientific practice as entirely rational and because the necessary abbreviation lends itself to a cause-and-effect summary of events, present Spencer's discovery (and others like it) as part of a rational process.

Further, science textbooks make scientific and technological controversy seem settled. Such presentations appeal to our worst consumer instinct: the desire to accept, uncritically, a pre-packaged ideal.

Advertisements

You may have seen the advertisement which demonstrates the durability of house paint by laboratory controlled conditions which alternately heat and freeze a painted surface. Probably you have also seen advertisements for stomach antacids and headache medicines which use images suggestive of x-rays of the brain or stomach, or read a byline on a magazine advertisement for a new product as having been "years in the making." Each of these presentations suggests 1) that scientific method is the basis for technology, and 2) that technology gains legitimacy from the high regard in which you hold scientific research.

Some of you are, and all of you know, owners of "smart" technologies like self-starting coffeemakers, programmable dishwashers and computerized lawnmowers. You (or they) may have justified the purchase on the grounds that it makes work more efficient. Is this the real reason? Examine the advertisements for the products, and you will notice that they have subtler, less practical appeals. Because designs are sexy, they make their user seem sexy. Because such products suggest a knowledge of technology in general, they make their user seem intelligent. Because such products are expensive, they make their owner seem wealthy. Finally, because they are tools and extensions of their user, they make their user seem powerful.

You may have seen pharmaceutical commercials which use a spokesperson dressed as a pharmacist or a doctor; such advertising uses the image of the scientist (a kind of gift-bearer in a lab coat) to lend a product credibility. It is interesting that the image spills outside the commercial: the scientist not in the commercial comes to be seen as trustworthy and caring.

"Public" Policy

It is almost easier to define what the "public" is not rather than what it is. "The public" or citizens of a country is not a homogenous group of people with similar concerns. Members of the public do not occupy the same jobs, do not have the same levels of income and education, do not belong to one community or professional organization, and do not participate in decisions regarding the same policy issues. Perhaps the only feature common to "the public" is diversity. Given its changing profile, the prospect of an increased presence in policymaking touches off debate over whether or not "the public" has the background, ability and wisdom to guide science and technology. In order to arrive at some form of coordinated action and policy, critics argue, the diverse parties in the process must reach consensus. This consensus is impossible because the differences among members of the public is irresolvable, and these differences lead to the gridlock of the process. However, the idea that consensus is a necessary for policymaking, and that agreement makes for coordinated action have also been challenged. The dynamics of policymaking do not ensure that the goals of the participants will not change. Further, participants in the process need to realize that they must serve the interests of other as a means of serving their own. Finally, as the process of writing the United States Constitution illustrates, it is not the consensus of the participants that matters, rather their ability to arrive at a language and a set of procedures allowing the public to sustain their own interests in the pursuit of a defined, but changing, goal.

In the 1920's the famous New York World editorial writer Walter Lippmann published a series of studies on the interrelationships between the news media and public decision-making. He railed against the ineptitude and sheer ignorance of the public in engaging the issues of the day. Lippmann's thesis was that the "government elite" busily manufactured public support for their programs by manipulating the news media. As the readers of newspapers were a "feeble-minded" and "neurotic" public, they were ill-equipped to critically assess what went on below the surface of a news report. Lippmann saw his job as educating the people, doing the leg-work they was supposed to do, by finding and disclosing "inside," unbiased information on the issues of the day for an unquestioning public to consume. In fact, Lippmann became America's first political "pundit."

The 1922 appearance of Lippmann's Public Opinion caused a great deal of controversy. The book was reviewed by John Dewey who argued that the role of "responsible" journalism was not simply to adhere to scientific standards of objectivity (which was impossible), but to inspire public and community debate. The press would enable communities to pursue democratic process by helping them to follow, criticize and engage in public political debate. In their debate Lippmann and Dewey portrayed the public in opposite ways. Dewey's public took part in vibrant debate to which the press contributed an intellectual and emotional context. Lippmann's public, because of their limited abilities and, in response, emphasis on journalistic objectivity, were encouraged to accept journalists' accounts of the facts of the matter. No public debate was necessary because the they would have the facts spoon-fed to them. Today the Dewey/Lippmann clash still informs our ideas of what the public is, and what constitutes public debate. We are confronted, as a democratic society, with the paradox of endorsing public input in the policymaking arena, as long as the public is informed. But in setting criteria for an informed public (note the recent rise in demands for "literacy" of one type or another), we begin to choose whose voices will be heard and whose will not. Many times these choices are made against the backdrop of the unjustified fear of a violent response.

In the section above on images of science and technology, a part of "the public" in England in 1811 were the Luddites. Threatened by job losses caused by new manufacturing technology, the Luddites burned factories and murdered factory owners. The infamy of the Luddite response continues even today to shadow legitimate protests of American workers. Over the last forty years have been confronted by the increasing automation of the workplace and accompanying job losses. While political protest is now a matter for the court room, the fears of workers and policymakers remains the same. In these examples, the public is roughly equivalent to the working class, or those who do not have as much political clout as politicians or industry barons. In making public policy, politicians assume the role of spokespersons for the public and imbued "them" with certain qualities. We have all heard, for example, politicians refer to "mainstream America" and the policies of government officials as either inside or outside the mainstream. The public being addressed in these instances is an "ideal type", a theoretical entity representing the habits and choices of a group of people assumed to have nearly identical views and lifestyles. Policymakers, whether they be politicians, lobbyists or scientists appeal to the interests of ideal types in arguing, for instance, how the development of science and technology leads to the creation of jobs. The assumption being that "the public" wants jobs, not promises of the possible discovery of esoteric knowledge and experimental techniques (a similar strategy was employed in selling the Human Genome Project to Congress).

The rhetoric of policymakers personifies their image of the public as either a hindrance or resource in the policymaking process. On one hand the public is portrayed as a mob too disconnected to know what they want. The diverse and sometimes ill-formed perspectives of the public are seen as a hindrance to form coherent policy. From this perspective, policymaking demands a meeting of the minds and the ability of one view to win out over the others. On the other hand the public is portrayed as group who can be dealt with but also does not know what they want. The diverse and ill-formed perspectives of the public are to be brought into focus by policymaker and technical communicators in the role of facilitators. From this perspective policymaking demands the structuring of a language and a process in which different goals can be met by utilizing a number of different views.

Policy

Policy can generally be defined as a set of either explicit or implicit choices made by a social group among possible goals and objectives in which; the means are specified for achieving the ends, the intended and unintended consequences of those choices are explored, and the effects of those choices are evaluated. Specifically, national science and technology has been defined as a governmental course of action intended to support, apply or regulate scientific knowledge or technological innovation.6 The study of policy is the study of how different social actors, ourselves, community action groups, scientists, technologists and local and federal government agencies, make choices about science and technology. These choices involve considering a number of inter-related elements such as expertise, ethics, risk assessment, and power relations at which we will look in this chapter. As a citizen, potential practitioner in science and technology, and especially as a scientific and technical communicator, you have an important role to play in the democratic formulation of policy, which calls for knowledge of the policy process.

Generally, the public is not interested in issues concerning science and technology. Jon Miller models American public policy formation on a pyramid. At the top of the are "decision-makers", the leaders of the branches of government who can make requisite legally enforceable decisions, who interact with "policy leaders", heads of lobbying groups and interest groups. At the next level of are the "attentive public" (very interested, well informed) which in 1983 according the National Science Foundation represented about 24% of the adult. At the next level are the "interested public" (not adequately informed) representing about 28% of the adult public. The base of the pyramid is represented by the nonattentive public (not interested); about 47% of the adult public. Interestingly, the percentage of the "nonattentive" public had declined from 62% in 1981. Still, the interest of the public regarding science and technology depends, of course, on the particular issue. The objective of policy leaders is to enlist the involvement of the attentive public in influencing the decision-making process.

Citizen Participation

In 1964 The Economic Opportunity Act was passed. This bill contained a provision that the Office of Economic Opportunity achieve the participation of the customers it served (mainly the poor) in the decision-making process. While direct citizen participation received a great deal of criticism, the rights of citizens to determine the direction of federal funds in their own communities was established. During the 1970's, federal legislators enacted over 200 public participation programs in federal agencies such as Environmental Protection Agency and the Community Development Block Grant Program. During the 1980's, many of these programs were rolled back due to budget cutting and deregulation. Given the lack of stability of these programs, the impact of mandated citizen participation on public policy is impossible to measure. The question of the government's responsibility in encouraging and maintaining citizen participation (especially with underrepresented groups) remains unresolved.

Aside from government sponsorship, concerned individuals have initiated a number of grassroots movements around local science and technology issues. People are more likely to become motivated or mobilized into interest groups over a policy issue directly impacting their community, the installation of power lines, road building, waste disposal, and environmental management, than national issues. Nevertheless, whether the issue be national or local, if an individual sees that they have a personal stake in the outcome of the issue, regarding their family, their freedom of choice, their land, interest is necessarily heightened. Here the direct impact of science and technology is made palpable. National policy issues which continue to be debated on a grassroots level include the use and distribution of reproductive technologies, the regulation of controversial drugs (e.g., Laetrile), and what can be taught in public schools (creationism and/or Darwinian theory). Of course, the merit of public wisdom also sparks debate. Interest groups can fan the fires of controversy for a moment in the national spotlight (radical environmentalists engaging in "tree spiking" to prevent timber harvests), and in so doing shift the character of the debate. Still, policy makers see the advantage of having a number of interests represented in the decision-making process. Too often, especially regarding issues concerning science and technology, the voice of the public is not heard, and policy decisions are left to experts.

You can participate in making local policy in several ways including; public hearings, advisory boards, study groups. Occasionally, however, these forums of participation present only the veneer of participatory democracy. Often public hearings are held at times and locations that limit public access. Even if available to the public, hearings can occur late in decision-making process so that many of the contentious issues have been decided; public debate at this point is only a formality. Citizens unfamiliar with the language of science and technology and the procedures of governments can become frustrated and confused by the process of hearings. Experts in particular scientific and technical fields and people familiar with rules or order and parliamentary procedure have a substantial advantages over other citizens. If traditional forms of participation are perceived as ineffective or biased, the public may protest, start a direct nonviolent campaign, or attempt legal redress.

To provide alternatives to unsatisfactory conventional processes, a number of suggestions and participatory experiments have been proposed. Suggestions include encouraging interactive procedures during hearings, technical assistance to lay participants (including the use of scientific and technical communicators as "translators" and mediators), and posthearing follow-ups. 7 Participatory experiments such as citizen courts and citizen review boards have also been proposed. The Science for Citizens Program sponsored by the National Science Foundation in 1977 was terminated in 1982, but during its brief existence started six Public Service Science Centers. An example of one of these centers is the Boston Neighborhood Network. The purpose of the network -- which eventually grew into an independent nonprofit organization, is to direct research activities at Boston's universities to the needs of neighborhood communities involving, among other things, broad environmental concerns, energy planning and banking practices. While the relative success of Science for Citizens cannot be determined due its short life, continued conflicts among policy makers, experts and the lay public illustrate the need to encourage innovative approaches to participatory politics.

Experts

An expert is a specialist who possesses a skill or knowledge of a field or profession, and through training and experience is recognized as an authority. When you think of an expert you likely picture an attorney, doctor, professor (in some academic discipline), scientist or engineer. Experts are among the elites of society; people earning advanced degrees and occupying leadership positions in high-paying professions. While experts have a prominent role to play in a participatory democracy, the particular aspects and consequences of that role require scrutiny.

One view (Stigler 1984) offers that expertise is not only needed, but should be encouraged as an efficient means to divide the "cognitive labor" of society. Since we all cannot become experts in every relevant specialty impacting our lives (these specialties appear to be proliferating at an alarming rate), we need, as a society, to have experts in certain areas so we can "think about" our own business and field of expertise. Intellectual specialization, like economic specialization, provides for an efficiently run society. There is no danger, in this view, that experts will become narrow-minded and out of touch with the lay public. As the ideas of individual experts would be highly diverse and experts would look to interact with one another, the exchange among experts would result in new ideas that would spill over into the larger public arena. As public benefactors, experts would occupy a special position in, and exert special influence on the political process.

Another view (Feyerabend 1978) offers that expertise is dangerous, and should be discouraged as it does harm to the public good. Experts threaten democracy. As experts constitute a minority of the population (and in very specialized fields quite a small minority), they should submit to the will of the majority of laypeople. In issues in which the advice of experts is pitted against the will of the majority of laypeople, the majority should prevail. Hypothetically, on this view, if the majority of laypeople wanted a new drug treatment for AIDS available for over the counter consumption, while experts at the Food and Drug Administrated (FDA) ruled it dangerous, the will of the majority would prevail. The argument against experts, given this view, is that scientific knowledge is knowledge just like other kinds of knowledge, it does not necessarily deserve privilege in arbitrating disputes. Besides, scientific claims, like those of experts at the FDA, could turn out to be wrong, just like any other nonscientific claims. Since the truth resides in more than one place, policy makers would be close-minded indeed to think only experts possess it. While the examples given apply to science and technology, they could easily apply to expertise in other professional fields and academic disciplines.

With respect to decisions regarding science and technology policy, which position on expertise should prevail? Should the lay public follow the leadership of trained experts, or diminish (and possibly abandon) the role of experts according to the principles of individual liberty? Those of you reading this book are preparing to become experts in some manner, keeping in mind that you will always be a layperson in regard to another field. Will you expect lay persons to defer to your expertise and authority? Will you defer to another person's expertise and authority? Or will you as either expert or layperson defer to the will of the majority? Perhaps these questions are best answered within a pragmatic context. For example, since individuals do not have laboratories in their homes (although home pregnancy tests provide a interesting counter-example), they might defer to the findings of national laboratory scientists with respect to the benefit or harm of a new drug or food additive. However, in instances where policy issues are woven into the political, economic and social fabric of a community, experts should be seen as contributors to a larger debate that might ultimately be settled by a negotiated consensus.

Ethics

The process of policy making is morally complex, and often overwhelmed by the rapid growth of science and technology. Changes in science and technology have challenged the courts to adjust from a decision-making process based on tradition and precedent, to a decision-making process based on anticipating the future impact of research and development. Also, science and technology are not simply the objects of ethical and legal debate, but are institutions influencing that debate. In fact, our personal and institutional ethical and legal frameworks are in significant ways bound to our knowledge of science and technology. In a survey of college students in 1980, for example, Jon Miller concluded that of the students considering themselves "more religious" or "less religious," 23% of the "less religious" students were "attentive" (see above) to organized science, compared to 14% of the "more religious" students. Miller concluded that although different aspects of religious belief were incompatible with "attentiveness" to science, the lack of attentiveness could not be attributed to any single belief. 8 Policy making serves both to sanction and restrict the expression of ethical standards in science and technology.

The relation between policy making and ethics has generated the following questions (among others): Should policy makers be guided by certain moral principles and guidelines? If so, what (or whose) principles should they be? Is it "ethical" to restrict the freedom of choice of individual consumers of science and technology? Do corporations involved in research and development have moral obligations to consumers? Should scientists and engineers be held accountable for how their research or technology is used? When is the lack of an explicit policy moral or immoral? What moral responsibility does the federal government to its citizens who use federally funded research? Should costs be a factor in imposing ethical regulations? In contemplating the last question, it was estimated by the Alcohol, Drug Abuse and Mental Health Association that the cost in 1988-89 for new animal care regulations for primates and dogs was $40,000 to $70,000 per research grant. Surveying 126 medical schools, the American Association of Medical Colleges estimated that compliance with animal rights regulations from 1985-1990 cost schools approximately $17.6 million dollars. Researchers applying for federal funding must justify the use of animals in experiments, as well as document expenditures for their care. The concerns of animal rights activists coupled with the growing expense of taking care of larger animals has forced some researchers to change their experimental procedures, using smaller animals (such as mice) instead of primates or no animals when possible.

Another illustration of the complexity of ethical questions in science policy is found in the Human Genome Project (HGP). Expected to carry a $3 billion dollar price tag over a fifteen year period, the HGP is biology's equivalent of putting a man on the moon. The goal of the project is to map and decipher the complete code of approximately 100,000 genes that determine the traits of human beings. Originally, the HGP was touted by some biologists as the contributing to the possible cure for all disease. This claim did not go unchallenged, however, even within the biological community. Proponents of the HGP shifted ground and advertised the project as generating new economic opportunities through biomedical research. Nevertheless, the ethical implications of the HGP, no matter which side of the debate one takes, are vast. Scientists, technologists, policy makers, and individual citizens will face ethical questions ranging from the "right" to alter the genetic makeup of the fetus in the womb (and the consequences of that process), to who should possess, organize and distribute the knowledge resulting from the HGP research. One of the more intriguing aspects of the HGP and other "big-science" projects is the possible effect of interdisciplinary cooperation (e.g., the role of computer scientists in the HGP) on ethical issues. When researchers and professionals from different disciplines and fields come together on a project, they clash. The participants are forced to re-examine the beliefs on which their disciplinary perspectives are based. Consequently, the transformation of disciplinary perspectives often leads to changes in moral standards and practices.

Risk Assessment

We face risk daily, driving a car, jogging, using tools and household chemicals. From our previous experiences and observations, or from the experiences of others, we approximate the amount of risk these activities entail under a variety of circumstances, and decided whether or not we will do them based on the perceived probability of adverse effect. 9 While we make individual determinations of risk, there are a number of professions, including science and technology, in which risk must be identified, estimated and compensated for in specific practices and policies. Risks can be classified as new, historical, individual and social. Historical risks are known occurrences about which data has been gathered; examples would include industrial accidents, automobile accidents and natural disasters. New risks are never previously observed occurrences about which data has not been gathered; examples would include exposure to unknown chemical and new technologies. Individual risks are those willingly taken by each person according to their value system; examples would include using drugs or alcohol. Social risks are those chosen for individuals by institutions (government, banks, industrial corporations); examples include federal regulations, or the location of a prison site in a community. These four classifications can be analyzed in three stages consisting of assessment, identification and estimation. Assessors generally use one four methods for determining acceptable risk: risk-cost-benefit analysis, revealed preferences, expressed preferences and natural standards. 10

Risk-cost-benefit analysis (also known as cost-benefit analysis) is the most prominent method for evaluating risk. Given a particular course of action, risk is initially determined in context to all other possible courses of action, and the risks associated with each one. Based on one of any number of quantitative and qualitative models, risk assessors draw a comparison between possible alternative actions and assign a monetary value to the probability of a consequence. The components of the analysis are assigned a number representing the value of each alternative. This number also represents the difference between the benefits of alternative actions on the one hand, and the risks and costs of a given course of action on the other hand. An example of risk-cost-benefit shows up on your automobile insurance statement. Criteria such as your past driving record, the type of car, where you live, the number of miles you drive to and from work, your marital status and age are assigned a numerical value. These numbers are compiled to give a profile of the driver, and insurance rates reflect whether or not the company believes the driver is a good or bad risk. In roughly the same way, risk-cost-benefit analysis is performed to determine the value of a worker, the safety of factory, and the probability a new drug treatment will cause harm or death.

Since the passage of the National Environmental Policy Act in 1969 and the creation of new federal regulatory agencies such as the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), efforts have been made to gather information on the various risks to which United States citizens are exposed (e.g., acid rain). In 1982 the Risk Analysis Research and Demonstration Act was passed in order to improve and define methods and standards used in the application of risk analysis. Aside from many of the dehumanizing aspects of risk analysis, criticisms of the risk-cost-benefit analysis center on scientistic presumptions on which this analysis is based. Often assessors have failed to come to grips with the ways in which ethical and cultural biases have come to play in risk assessment. For example, if a laborer was educated about the risk involved in doing a particular job, and offer a higher wage designed to reflect and compensate for the risk, and decided to do the job, should the laborer's personal preferences be the deciding factor in allowing them to do the job and take the risk? Do the risks an individual laborer takes only effect his/her own life? Can workers adequately assess their own risk preferences? What is the difference between a worker's perception of risk at work, and the same worker's perception of risk outside work, with respect to the threat of a local waste disposal site or nuclear plant? The answers to these questions are not found in actuary tables, but in submitting risk analysis to the same contextual analyses as the science on which its methods are based, and the technology whose risks it seeks to determine.

Power Relations

Science and technology policy consists of integrated courses of action formulated to organize, produce, and use goods such as knowledge, information and capital. Once a policy is enacted, however, the distribution of these goods is rarely equitable. As a result, certain individuals, groups and institutions gain power while others are marginalized or pushed aside. Of the products with which science and technology policy deals, knowledge is the one we most closely associated with power. We have a tendency to define power through a series of verbal equivalencies. Knowledge is power. Power is control. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. A verbal equation such as knowledge is power expresses a truism we casually accept. But how is the concept of power distinguished within the context of scientific knowledge?

On one view, knowledge and power have been characterized as external to one another in science and technology. From this perspective, power operates upon science, but does not operate within science. For example, a telling but inexact definition of science is that it is the best method we have for getting truths about the world. While scientistic, this definition underscores an certain accepted aspects of scientific knowledge, its universality and its applicability. Unlike other forms of knowledge, scientific knowledge claims to be universal by being "law-like." The mathematical laws governing the ways colors combine to make up white light, for instance, are not bound to a particular location. These laws apply on any occasion and in any location. We can apply our knowledge of the composition of light in making lenses, or in other theories regarding optics. Knowing how things are, how the world works, gives us an opportunity to manipulate or control a situation. Knowledge is power in this instance because we can impose our wills on a particular situation. Still, power can be used to influence or thwart the acquisition of knowledge. The Catholic Church prohibited Galileo from doing sicneitifc work in 1616. The political regime in the Sovet Union suppressed knowledge of Mendelian genetics. In either instance, where knowledge obtains power through its application, or a person or government exercises power to stop scientific investigation, the character of scientific knowledge and achievement, its rationality, objectivity, universality, remains constant.

Another view holds that scientific and technical knowledge and power cannot be looked at separately. Power relations among people, institutions and ideas circulate throughout science and technology and are represented within scientific and technical knowledge. Scientific theories do not merely offer a description of the world, but assume and define relations among people and ideas. Power is entailed in any set of defined relations, but is best understood in this view as exercised within a web of interconnected relationships. Power is not localized in any one place, or possessed exclusively by any one person. While the practices of science do disclose the way the world operates, they also transform the world and the way the world can be known. Feminist theorists, for example, argue that sexist scientific language reflects a male-dominated culture that portrays nature as material resource to be controlled and exploited. The masculine conception of power, dominance, permeates scientific practice by insisting that objective, "disinterested" observations provide the basis for what counts as knowledge. Feminists suggest that women's experience and understanding if developed within the framework of science (some feminists argue for a separate form of science) offers the chance for a less power oriented approach to observation and experimentation and a different form of scientific understanding.

Over the last three hundred years science and technology have arguably been our most dominant social institutions, an influence which shows little sign of waning. The practices of science and technology define ourselves and other human beings in powerful, sustained ways. And in so doing science and technology have been painted as both our liberators and our oppressors. How we, as individuals seeking fulfillment, or as members of social groups demanding liberation, come to terms with science and technology will determine how we will know the world and our places in it.

National Science and Technology Policy

The Executive Branch

During one of the presidential debates President Reagan declared "I'm not a scientist", a statement which could be attributed to any modern president. Without hesitation we cast votes for presidential candidates with little or no background and varying degrees of personal interest in science and technology. In many cases, a President will receive advice from science advisors and delegate policy-making decisions to assistants and government agencies. Nevertheless, the Constitution empowers the president to take a direct, active role in science and technology policymaking. Consequently, the President can be an architect of national scientific research and technological development for decades to come.

Presidential policy initiatives are conveyed on both foreign and domestic fronts. As commander in chief and principle negotiator of international treaties, the president can encourage the classification or declassification of scientific and technological research, or recommend standards for imported and exported technologies. As a key participant in the legislative process, the president can introduce or recommend legislation to the Congress and sign or veto bills. The president also has the power to appoint administrative officers to federal offices and agencies, and present nominees to the Senate for confirmation. Through executive order (e.g., halting fetal tissue research), the president can direct specific research programs.

In calling for a shift in national priorities regarding the direction of basic science research and technology, President Clinton observed:

American technology must move in a new direction to build economic strength and spur economic growth. The traditional federal role in technology development has been limited to the support of basic science and mission-oriented research in the Defense Department, NASA, and other agencies. We cannot rely on the serendipitous application of defense technology to the private sector. We must aim directly at these new challenges and focus our efforts on the new opportunities before us, recognizing the government can play a key role helping private firms develop and profit from innovations.11

Clinton's "new direction" includes reorienting national science and technology policy toward job growth and economic growth in sectors of the economy such as communications and information. While Clinton's message of "change" was prominent during his campaign, his sentiments on science and technology were anticipated roughly two-and-a-half years earlier by President Bush: "More and more our nation depend on basic, scientific research to spur our economic growth, longer and healthier lives, a more secure world and a safer environment." 12 Bush and Clinton's comments did signal a change away from the policies of the 1980's which centered on defense, "big science" projects (the Space Station, the Strategic Defense Initiative, the Superconducting Super Collider) and biomedical research. Science and technology policy makers currently face the task of "reindustrializing" America by rebuilding the United States infrastructure, and converting defense research to broader applications such as high-speed rail.

The design of national science and technology policy changes with the degree of personal interest and expertise a President brings to office, and social agenda they represent. President Johnson, for example, saw science and technology as a by-product of Great Society programs. President Reagan considered science and technology as keys for economic growth and approved substantial funding increases for defense and basic science. Critics have challenged the cultural assumptions symbolized in presidential science and technology policy. Should, for example, science and technology be regarded as national resources open to public funding, scrutiny and intervention? Or should decision-making about, and funding of scientific and technological research be placed in private hands? The tension over what constitutes democratic control of science and technology is illustrated in the president's policies.

An interesting counter-example to the modern day trend of electing lawyers and professional politicians to the presidency is Herbert Hoover (President from 1929-1933). A leading mining engineer, Hoover wrote a standard textbook on mining. After completing the textbook, Hoover, with his wife Lou Henry Hoover, set about preparing the first English translation of George Bauer's (Georgius Agricola) treatise on metal and mining De Re Metallica. After five years and four complete revisions, Hoover and his wife published their translation in 1912.

Participation and Policy
Chapter 7: Part 1

James H. Collier with David M. Toomey

Book Contents

Chapter 7: Part 1

Participation and Policy Chapter 7: Part 1

James H. Collier with David M. Toomey

Book Contents

Chapter 7: Part 1

Participation and Policy
Chapter 7: Part 1