This book is a collection of photographs and essays that seem to be more literary than scientific in nature. Rather than try to summarize, I will give you a ‘flavor’ of its contents. In the introduction, Gould says, “...although each of these essays features some odd little corner of the natural world... I would venture to state... that these essays treat the two great themes of philosophy through the ages: ontology, or the nature of reality, and epistemology, or how the human mind obtains its knowledge of reality” (p. 13).
One of the essays is about how we perceive individuality and what it means to be biologically individual. The four page essay covers Ibsen, Darwin, cloning, and conjoined twins. Mixing literary theatre references with the history of science as well as current scientific phenomena, Gould makes a the point that clones are as much individuals as identical or even conjoined twins, and that the fear and concern over Dolly is perhaps not necessary. The essay goes with pictures of ang and chang, and a two-headed sheep.
Another essay is about misunderstandings in the fossil record. Gould tells two stories of how scientists misidentified fossils and were later corrected. The story includes a lovely photograph of a bird of paradise and photos of the misidentified fossil of a giant water salamander. This essay alludes to constructivism, but , as the book is not tailored to scholars, it presents the information in a subdued way.
I think this book is an attempt to do just what Lehrer is talking about, and bring artists into the world of science; however, Gould is acting more as an artist or poet than a scientist. I’m not sure what I think of the book, other than that it is interesting. I like that it doesn’t fit a genre, and needs to be dealt with in a different way.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Latour, 1998, How to be Iconophilic in Art, Science, and Religion?
This article is from Jones & Galison, Picturing Science Producing Art, 1998
Latour frames this discussion using the famous McLuhan quote, “the medium is the message” but he gives this quote a new meaning. He says that the in the past, science has been portrayed by stressing the two extremes of the Mind and the World. The medium, what is in the middle of these (but not between according to L) is what we are now focused on. Mediation, he says, consists of, “the humble instruments, tools, visualization skills, writing practices, focusing techniques” (p. 422). He calls these “re-representations.” He makes a constructivist argument that these mediators do not merely sit in between the Mind and the World, but have a hand in producing that which comes in and out of mediation.
Latour finds that the field of Art History has much to offer the History of science because of the way the “constructivist character is built into the arts” (p. 423).
Latour then turns to his concept of “immutable mobiles.” (Immutable mobiles are defined most clearly by Law & Singleton, 2005, as things that move around but hold their shape, either physically or relationally/functionally). I should add here, that there is a discussion the turns more toward religion, and is fascinating, but very difficult, and not necessarily relevant, I will leave you to read it if you dare :).
Latour says that as these mediations become immutable mobiles, they are, in a sense, erased (seems tome he is saying the mediators of science are black-boxed), and what is left is a picture of “a calculating Mind, a calculable World, a substance which lies under its passing attributes, and the medium of language to circulate in between” (p 427). He says that all other mediations are “found wanting” because they fail to provide an “accurate access to the world.” Art, he says, escapes indictment because it is marginalized as “only art” and does not inform what we can know. Latour rejects this as a “hideous scenography.”
Latour proposes that we do not go down this road, but stick to the mediators we can arrive at a place where the arts will no longer be merely subjective and “impotent” and the science will no longer be “merely accurate.”
Latour concludes by suggesting that the difficulty we face is that in being iconophilic in one form of visual culture renders us iconoclastic in the others. He advocates a world in which “angels and immutable mobiles circulate, each in their own way” (p. 438).
Latour frames this discussion using the famous McLuhan quote, “the medium is the message” but he gives this quote a new meaning. He says that the in the past, science has been portrayed by stressing the two extremes of the Mind and the World. The medium, what is in the middle of these (but not between according to L) is what we are now focused on. Mediation, he says, consists of, “the humble instruments, tools, visualization skills, writing practices, focusing techniques” (p. 422). He calls these “re-representations.” He makes a constructivist argument that these mediators do not merely sit in between the Mind and the World, but have a hand in producing that which comes in and out of mediation.
Latour finds that the field of Art History has much to offer the History of science because of the way the “constructivist character is built into the arts” (p. 423).
..it is possible to take much greater pleaser in learning the laws of the thermodynamics after having read the social historians on the of the first or second law, but this reading, precisely, takes on some aeschtetic character. The ame mediators that should have been black-boxed to produce scientific certainty, now that they are developed by the historian, generate a type of pleasure that we rightly associate with the arts. Even if I exaggerate the differences, it remains fair to say that Beauty is more easily seen as a construction than is Truth (p 423).
Latour then turns to his concept of “immutable mobiles.” (Immutable mobiles are defined most clearly by Law & Singleton, 2005, as things that move around but hold their shape, either physically or relationally/functionally). I should add here, that there is a discussion the turns more toward religion, and is fascinating, but very difficult, and not necessarily relevant, I will leave you to read it if you dare :).
Latour says that as these mediations become immutable mobiles, they are, in a sense, erased (seems tome he is saying the mediators of science are black-boxed), and what is left is a picture of “a calculating Mind, a calculable World, a substance which lies under its passing attributes, and the medium of language to circulate in between” (p 427). He says that all other mediations are “found wanting” because they fail to provide an “accurate access to the world.” Art, he says, escapes indictment because it is marginalized as “only art” and does not inform what we can know. Latour rejects this as a “hideous scenography.”
Latour proposes that we do not go down this road, but stick to the mediators we can arrive at a place where the arts will no longer be merely subjective and “impotent” and the science will no longer be “merely accurate.”
Latour concludes by suggesting that the difficulty we face is that in being iconophilic in one form of visual culture renders us iconoclastic in the others. He advocates a world in which “angels and immutable mobiles circulate, each in their own way” (p. 438).
The DNA Mystique: The Gene as a Cultural Icon
Dorothy Nelkin and M. Susan Lindee's book is a study of the cultural meanings surrounding DNA and the gene in popular culture today. The book is a critique of genetic essentialism, the tendency since the 1980s and 1990s to attribute personal traits to biological rather than social or environmental determinism. Humans become reduced down to their genes, their DNA molecules. Despite much interdeterminacy and complexity in genetic science about exactly how genes interact with environment in complex ways to express certain traits, the public has simplified the gene to a causal, determinist explanation, often supported by scientists' own popularizing rhetoric to generate funding support for large projects such as the Human Genome Project, and this popular understanding feeds back into scientists' own motivations for pursuing certain avenues of research. Narratives of genetic determinism build upon historical understandings of the importance of blood for kinship ties, and current discourse is very similar to early twentieth century eugenics discourse, which focused on the similarly constructed "germplasm." The gene is seen as a computer program coded with our instructions, as a sacred text which will reveal the secrets of human existence, and as a surrogate for the soul, both the repository of human identity and the guarantor of immortality. The gene powerfully reinforces traditional notions of family in an era when the nuclear family seems under attack; genetic kinship makes adoption appear unnatural and problematic. Genes are also seen to be the root of both genius and criminality; by redirecting moral responsibility to genes, we absolve or mitigate individuals of guilt in a society where individual free will is held responsible. However such relocating of blame, while absolving parents of bad parenting, puts new moral pressures on parents not to reproduce in order to not pass on bad genes, seen as having social costs for a taxpayer society. Genetic essentialism has been used both to positive and negative effect by various marginalized groups, including feminists, African-Americans, and homosexuals, arguing that their innate differences either make them superior or give them a claim to special protection and equal civil rights. But essentialism is a double-edged sword, for it also can be used by neo-Nazis and conservative supporters of eugenics to limit reproduction for such marginalized groups. Genetic essentialism can create a new class of the genetic disadvantaged, pressured by society not to procreate. Thus the icon of the gene has all sorts of political, moral, and legal implications being played out in current society: who should have custody of an adopted child, whether criminals or job applicants should be screened, whether genetic dispositions should be used to calculate insurance premiums, the rights of the disabled to have children. Nelkin and Lindee foresee a frightening future whereby voluntary eugenics, based on the public social understanding of genetic essentialism, forces people to make reproductive choices rather than any state policy. They also see that genetic essentialism favors a fatalistic view of social problems, advocating inaction with regard to social welfare and education reform (why bother to help dumb kids?), and promoting racialized attitudes towards inner city welfare mothers breeding indiscriminately on taxpayer money. The gene has become the supergene, explaining everything in the human condition.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Turney: Frankenstein's Footsteps
Turney, J. (1998). Frankenstein’s Footsteps: Science, genetics, and popular culture. New Haven: Yale University Press.
• We are both mesmerized with and concerned about the progress of the biological sciences over the last century and into the 21st century.
• Author uses Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as a “framing device” for public images of new technology and biology: “…when we look for ways to interpret the latest developments, the hot news from the lab, the technological promises for the twenty-first century, when we look for stories to tell about what we are about to do, we commonly reach back to a story which is almost two hundred years old” (p. 2). Frankenstein is identified as a “myth of modernity.”
• Shelley offered “concerns which go to the heart of our response to science” (p. 3)—namely, ambivalence towards the power of the biological sciences: the idea that progress in the sciences in its striving towards “power over the body” can be cause for “celebration,” but also always accompanied by “unease” (p. 10).
• Author feels that there is a clear relationship between “art” (in this case, popular conceptions of science in historical literature and film) and “science” and that art may, in fact, influence scientific developments: “My premise is that fictional representations matter, that the science and technology we ultimately see are partly shaped by the images of the work which exist outside the confines of the laboratory report or the scientific paper” (p. 3). Shelley’s Frankenstein can be seen as one way to understand the “source” of contemporary attitudes towards and perceptions of present-day science:
(1) Motif of the mad scientist, both inspired and tortured by his (or her) creation
(2) The consequences of playing God and creating life (manifested in current debates over genetic engineering).
(3) Meeting scientific progress with a mix of excitement and ambivalence
(4) A Pandora’s Box of unknown consequences.
Chapter 1: Mary Shelley’s Creation
• Author draws our attention to Shelley’s original novel, arguing that the central theme of the “Frankenstein myth” relates to getting/using knowledge and the power conferred—“dramatized by the creation of life” (p. 13). Ambivalence about this power is central to the story.
• Author compares Frankenstein to other creation myths in Western culture; in the case of Frankenstein, there is no “supernatural agency” (p. 14), as the human acts on his own. Frankenstein also brought to light new ideas about a “mechanistic” view of living things” (p. 16). In her myth, “science is a substitute for God” (p. 23).
• Points out Shelley’s personal background and the idea that she blended together scientific (e.g., Erasmus Darwin, Humphrey Davy) and literary sources (e.g., Byron) to shape her tale. Shelley was well versed in the “science of her time” (p. 22), and her familiarity with social issues of the time (e.g., grave-robbing) also become apparent.
Chapter 2: Hideous Progeny: Frankenstein Retold
• While Shelley’s novel is interesting on its own accord, it’s even more fascinating to look at how the story has become “embedded in our culture” (p. 26): is it folklore, legend, or myth? The author goes on to explore different definitions of these terms, and what various critics have had to say about the book.
• The story propagated in many ways: first published in 1818, then published in “simplified form”, then to the stage, then to film. There were various transformations of the story in each of these genres. Along with Dracula, Frankenstein helped provide a blueprint for the “horror movie.” The author notes that movie versions would draw particular attention to different facets of the story (e.g., more attention on the creator than the creature itself).
• Why has the myth endured? Or, what about the story has endured? Most importantly, according to the author, the “science” element of the story has been maintained in all the adaptations: “…the endurance of the myth plainly does testify to a deep disquiet at the potentialities inherent in scientific discovery in general, and the science of life in particular”(p. 36).
Chapter 3: As Remorseless as Nature: the Rise of Experimental Biology
• The image of the biologist has changed immensely since the mid-19th C: “the transition between the first image of the biologist, the frock-coated skull-hefter, and the second, the white-coated microscopist; the transition from natural historian to experimenter” (p. 45).
• Author provides a timeline of some of the developments/trends in biology, including Victorian “antivivisection” movement (experimentation on animals) as well as the eugenics movement.
• Certain popular novels at the time are pointed to as perpetuating images of the biologist at the time period (e.g., the biologist as the “unfeeling obsessive” as portrayed by Jack London’s characters—see p. 54, Wells’ Dr. Moreau).
Chapter 4: Creating Life in the Laboratory
• The possibility of spontaneous generation of (artificial) life became a focus of biologists and source of growing optimism in the power of science at the end of the 19th C. Jacques Loeb was the first major scientist to be linked with possibility of creating life in the lab. Alexis Carrel was also an important “visible” figure in the beginnings of transplant surgery and tissue culture.
• The author seems to stress that, emerging from these scientists’ very publicized work, was the view that life could be “controlled” and “manipulated.”
• These developments were often viewed publicly as positive, but also with growing unease. In some cases, there were clear “spiritual” and “moral” implications that the public saw as related to these developments. These feelings of ambivalence that we see even today in regard to biological advancement, are not new.
Chapter Five: Into the Brave New World
• Interwar period of biology is considered, a time when the “high hopes” of the pre-war vision of biology were somewhat dampened when life was shown to be much more complicated than first understood.
• More general awareness of the complexity of human life led to the conclusion that creation of life in a lab was, perhaps, not so imminent as previously predicted; however, the press still functioned to forward the idea (“prophecy”) that scientists could, in fact, perform this feat.
• Karel Capek’s play (1921) R.U.R. (Rossum’s Universal Robots): explores idea of artificially created humans and production lines. This work, while “symbolically rich, lacked any referenced to contemporary research” (p. 99).
• Haldane’s Daedalus or Science and the Future: outlines a history of futuristic, somewhat improbable scientific developments that are thought to be “just over the scientific horizon” (p. 101).
• Aldous Huxley’s A Brave New World (1932): future-oriented view of how biology would/could affect the human condition: “The emphasis on biology was deliberate, born of Huxley’s wish to portray ‘the advancement of science as it affects human individuals’” (p. 114). The book deals with, among other things, the reproduction of identical humans, recalling Capek’s R.U.R and “a society in which the ultimate result of applied science is to bring development to a halt—a direct contradiction of the actual experience of modernity” (p. 115). The book had a tremendous impact on both scholarly and popular thinking, and continues to be cited today; however, it was (and continues to be) seen mostly as “distant prophesy” (p. 117).
• Importantly, the ideas that these popularized writers seemed to be suggesting (or foreseeing) would be revisited by science later: “More significantly, perhaps, some researchers and orchestrators of research have been directly inspired by the vision of biological control” (p. 118).
Chapters 6-10
• Nuclear energy and nuclear weapons are case studies in how the Frankenstein myth pervades our attitudes toward scientific achievement: Lauded for their potential to provide energy “too cheap to meter,” but also feared for their unique ability to benefit the world as a whole or end it all together.
• Second case study: current debate over genetic engineering. Life sciences could change the very essence of what it means to be “human.” We can create, not just modify, life (i.e., cloning).
(1) Frankenstein myth – creating life (a new modern Prometheus?)
(2) Brave New World motif – engineering the essence of being human.
• “If ever a research program drew on fictional images from its inspiration, and interpretation, it was the work which led to human in vitro fertilization. The Frankenstein script has been generalized to apply to almost any technology, even though it still has a special affinity with technologies of life. The idea of conception outside the body identified with Brave New World has a more specific connotation. And once that script established its hold, any research which seemed to offer control over reproduction was readily figured as a step toward Huxley’s world” (p. 160).
** How far should we go in our quest for knowledge? When do we cross into the realm of the forbidden, whether it involves nuclear proliferation or in vitro fertilization? **
Conclusion:
• Frankenstein may be just a book, but it tells a story just like science and history – about our past, present and future and how we have interacted, are interacting, and will interact with technology
• Telling stories to make sense of an issue (implications, meaning), to predict outcomes, and promote interpretations/perspectives in the course of debate in the public arena.
• “Together, all these stories form part of a diffuse public debate about science and technology, about what research is desirable or permissible, what applications are to be hoped or feared, about how our society shapes and is shaped by the science it builds (p. 201)
Summarized by Laura and Chris
Introduction• We are both mesmerized with and concerned about the progress of the biological sciences over the last century and into the 21st century.
• Author uses Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as a “framing device” for public images of new technology and biology: “…when we look for ways to interpret the latest developments, the hot news from the lab, the technological promises for the twenty-first century, when we look for stories to tell about what we are about to do, we commonly reach back to a story which is almost two hundred years old” (p. 2). Frankenstein is identified as a “myth of modernity.”
• Shelley offered “concerns which go to the heart of our response to science” (p. 3)—namely, ambivalence towards the power of the biological sciences: the idea that progress in the sciences in its striving towards “power over the body” can be cause for “celebration,” but also always accompanied by “unease” (p. 10).
• Author feels that there is a clear relationship between “art” (in this case, popular conceptions of science in historical literature and film) and “science” and that art may, in fact, influence scientific developments: “My premise is that fictional representations matter, that the science and technology we ultimately see are partly shaped by the images of the work which exist outside the confines of the laboratory report or the scientific paper” (p. 3). Shelley’s Frankenstein can be seen as one way to understand the “source” of contemporary attitudes towards and perceptions of present-day science:
(1) Motif of the mad scientist, both inspired and tortured by his (or her) creation
(2) The consequences of playing God and creating life (manifested in current debates over genetic engineering).
(3) Meeting scientific progress with a mix of excitement and ambivalence
(4) A Pandora’s Box of unknown consequences.
Chapter 1: Mary Shelley’s Creation
• Author draws our attention to Shelley’s original novel, arguing that the central theme of the “Frankenstein myth” relates to getting/using knowledge and the power conferred—“dramatized by the creation of life” (p. 13). Ambivalence about this power is central to the story.
• Author compares Frankenstein to other creation myths in Western culture; in the case of Frankenstein, there is no “supernatural agency” (p. 14), as the human acts on his own. Frankenstein also brought to light new ideas about a “mechanistic” view of living things” (p. 16). In her myth, “science is a substitute for God” (p. 23).
• Points out Shelley’s personal background and the idea that she blended together scientific (e.g., Erasmus Darwin, Humphrey Davy) and literary sources (e.g., Byron) to shape her tale. Shelley was well versed in the “science of her time” (p. 22), and her familiarity with social issues of the time (e.g., grave-robbing) also become apparent.
Chapter 2: Hideous Progeny: Frankenstein Retold
• While Shelley’s novel is interesting on its own accord, it’s even more fascinating to look at how the story has become “embedded in our culture” (p. 26): is it folklore, legend, or myth? The author goes on to explore different definitions of these terms, and what various critics have had to say about the book.
• The story propagated in many ways: first published in 1818, then published in “simplified form”, then to the stage, then to film. There were various transformations of the story in each of these genres. Along with Dracula, Frankenstein helped provide a blueprint for the “horror movie.” The author notes that movie versions would draw particular attention to different facets of the story (e.g., more attention on the creator than the creature itself).
• Why has the myth endured? Or, what about the story has endured? Most importantly, according to the author, the “science” element of the story has been maintained in all the adaptations: “…the endurance of the myth plainly does testify to a deep disquiet at the potentialities inherent in scientific discovery in general, and the science of life in particular”(p. 36).
Chapter 3: As Remorseless as Nature: the Rise of Experimental Biology
• The image of the biologist has changed immensely since the mid-19th C: “the transition between the first image of the biologist, the frock-coated skull-hefter, and the second, the white-coated microscopist; the transition from natural historian to experimenter” (p. 45).
• Author provides a timeline of some of the developments/trends in biology, including Victorian “antivivisection” movement (experimentation on animals) as well as the eugenics movement.
• Certain popular novels at the time are pointed to as perpetuating images of the biologist at the time period (e.g., the biologist as the “unfeeling obsessive” as portrayed by Jack London’s characters—see p. 54, Wells’ Dr. Moreau).
Chapter 4: Creating Life in the Laboratory
• The possibility of spontaneous generation of (artificial) life became a focus of biologists and source of growing optimism in the power of science at the end of the 19th C. Jacques Loeb was the first major scientist to be linked with possibility of creating life in the lab. Alexis Carrel was also an important “visible” figure in the beginnings of transplant surgery and tissue culture.
• The author seems to stress that, emerging from these scientists’ very publicized work, was the view that life could be “controlled” and “manipulated.”
• These developments were often viewed publicly as positive, but also with growing unease. In some cases, there were clear “spiritual” and “moral” implications that the public saw as related to these developments. These feelings of ambivalence that we see even today in regard to biological advancement, are not new.
Chapter Five: Into the Brave New World
• Interwar period of biology is considered, a time when the “high hopes” of the pre-war vision of biology were somewhat dampened when life was shown to be much more complicated than first understood.
• More general awareness of the complexity of human life led to the conclusion that creation of life in a lab was, perhaps, not so imminent as previously predicted; however, the press still functioned to forward the idea (“prophecy”) that scientists could, in fact, perform this feat.
• Karel Capek’s play (1921) R.U.R. (Rossum’s Universal Robots): explores idea of artificially created humans and production lines. This work, while “symbolically rich, lacked any referenced to contemporary research” (p. 99).
• Haldane’s Daedalus or Science and the Future: outlines a history of futuristic, somewhat improbable scientific developments that are thought to be “just over the scientific horizon” (p. 101).
• Aldous Huxley’s A Brave New World (1932): future-oriented view of how biology would/could affect the human condition: “The emphasis on biology was deliberate, born of Huxley’s wish to portray ‘the advancement of science as it affects human individuals’” (p. 114). The book deals with, among other things, the reproduction of identical humans, recalling Capek’s R.U.R and “a society in which the ultimate result of applied science is to bring development to a halt—a direct contradiction of the actual experience of modernity” (p. 115). The book had a tremendous impact on both scholarly and popular thinking, and continues to be cited today; however, it was (and continues to be) seen mostly as “distant prophesy” (p. 117).
• Importantly, the ideas that these popularized writers seemed to be suggesting (or foreseeing) would be revisited by science later: “More significantly, perhaps, some researchers and orchestrators of research have been directly inspired by the vision of biological control” (p. 118).
Chapters 6-10
• Nuclear energy and nuclear weapons are case studies in how the Frankenstein myth pervades our attitudes toward scientific achievement: Lauded for their potential to provide energy “too cheap to meter,” but also feared for their unique ability to benefit the world as a whole or end it all together.
• Second case study: current debate over genetic engineering. Life sciences could change the very essence of what it means to be “human.” We can create, not just modify, life (i.e., cloning).
(1) Frankenstein myth – creating life (a new modern Prometheus?)
(2) Brave New World motif – engineering the essence of being human.
• “If ever a research program drew on fictional images from its inspiration, and interpretation, it was the work which led to human in vitro fertilization. The Frankenstein script has been generalized to apply to almost any technology, even though it still has a special affinity with technologies of life. The idea of conception outside the body identified with Brave New World has a more specific connotation. And once that script established its hold, any research which seemed to offer control over reproduction was readily figured as a step toward Huxley’s world” (p. 160).
** How far should we go in our quest for knowledge? When do we cross into the realm of the forbidden, whether it involves nuclear proliferation or in vitro fertilization? **
Conclusion:
• Frankenstein may be just a book, but it tells a story just like science and history – about our past, present and future and how we have interacted, are interacting, and will interact with technology
• Telling stories to make sense of an issue (implications, meaning), to predict outcomes, and promote interpretations/perspectives in the course of debate in the public arena.
• “Together, all these stories form part of a diffuse public debate about science and technology, about what research is desirable or permissible, what applications are to be hoped or feared, about how our society shapes and is shaped by the science it builds (p. 201)
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Thinking about Television Science: How Students Understand the Nature of Science from Different Program Genres
Koshi Dhingra's study looks at the role of television science in informal learning and its relationship with formal science learned in school, drawing on recent understandings of science learning that emphasize the role of informal learning outside the classroom that students bring to shape their learning of science in the classroom.
Dhingra's study identifies four different program genres of television programs from which the high school students in the study learned science or gained a view of science. These genres, news, documentary, fictional programming, and magazine format, emerged from the data.
Dhingra grouped responses to questionnaires, interviews, and free writes into coded categories, two of which emerged from the data (ethics and validity of science, science as portrayed by practitioners), and two of which where derived from the author's theoretical framework: Duschl's (1990) concept of final form science as unquestioned facts, and school science versus television science based on Bybee's (2001) study on combining free choice and free education sectors.
The most interesting finding was that the news and fiction genres offered views of science as uncertain and open to question, whereas the documentary and magazine-format genres offered final form science with little need to question the facts presented. Thus the framing of the science that was presented had a significant effect on how science was perceived. (The drama noted by the students in question at this time was The X-Files, however, which might have been unusual in its portrayal of uncertainty in science.)
Another important finding was that, especially in the case of The X-Files, but also in the case of the magazine format Bill Nye, the on-screen characters were highly important in helping the audience connect to the science, making it feel immediate and relevant to the viewer. One respondent mentioned that he felt science in fiction to be more realistic than that in documentaries because it was more relevant to experiences he imagined he would have (an operating room, versus a jungle with monkeys). The portrayal of Scully as a competent female scientist was particularly important in showing a gender divide in how the character related to viewers. Girls felt that Scully was an important role model, while boys thought that her competence in seemingly all scientific fields was unrealistic. Opinions on Bill Nye also differed from positive to "corny".
Another interesting finding was that discussion of TV science in class tended to have a leveling effect, as the teacher and student were both discussing a topic with which the students had as much, if not more, expertise than the teacher. This disruption of the usual roles was noted with tension, in cases when the teacher would reassert authority and the student was made to "feel stupid."
Dhingra concludes that documentary and magazine science should try to learn from news and fiction genres in presenting science as an uncertain process, not final form facts, and do so in a way to relate directly to people's experiences, rather than science talk "all the time" which seemed to bore some of the student viewers. This would improve such programs, both in terms of engaging the viewer more, helping them learn better, but also improve the content as viewers would better understand science as an uncertain process and be trained to think critically and debate, rather than passively receiving facts.
Amateurs versus professionals: the controversy over telescope size in late Victorian science (Lankford)
John Lankford is interested in the historical process of professionalization and institutionalization of science that occured in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. Although he notes that the relationship beween professionals and amateurs in astronomy is unusual, if not unique, among contemporary sciences, he examines professionalization through the lens (ha!) of a rather bizarre controversy that occupied astronomers between 1885 and 1911.
During and shortly before this period, as the field of astronomy commanded increasingly large resources from the government, astronomers were differentiating themselves into pros and amateurs. For example, as the Royal Astronomical Society increasingly catered to those astronomers with the best equipment and the most training, the British Astronomical Association was created to meet the needs of the new class of amateurs.
Around 1885, William F. Denning, a particularly highly decorated amateur British astronomer, started arguing that smaller aperture telescopes were superior to larger aperture scopes. He reasoned that larger scopes were more sensitive to atmospheric conditions, more prone to suffer from glare on bright targets such as planets, and less able to resolve subtle details. It should be noted that Denning worked with instruments of less than 13 inches in diameter -- apparently reflectors.
Professional astronomers, outfitted with the likes of the 36-inch Lick refractor, argued against Denning. The argument proceeded, on and off, for over 35 years. Lankford notes that Denning basically never changed his arguments, regardless of the evidence or logic brought against him.
One interesting dynamic in this debate is that, especially in the early stages, it was largely between Denning and American professionals. Lankford doesn't particularly explore this, though.
A key point in the controversy occured when respected amateur A.S. Williams reported discovering spots on Saturn with his 6.5-inch reflector that no one else seemed able to see, not even with the monster at the Lick. Even Denning was doubtful. When Captain William Noble, former president of the BAA (the amateur group), defended Williams at a meeting of the RAS, he came across as a rather uneducated enthusiast. For example, Noble confused the optical phenomena of chromatic and spherical aberration. This episode showed in stark contrast the growing gap in specialist expertise (such as knowledge of optical theory) between pros and amateurs.
Another very interesting point -- indeed, one of the few interesting points of this whole thing -- is that Williams was intent on catching the faintest, subtlest details on Saturn's surface; whereas pros such as E.E.Barnard at the Lick were more interested in features that could be documented with certainty, measured with mathematical precision, etc. This demonstrated that the pros and amateurs were already developing different visual vocabularies and ways of seeing.
The controversy more or less ended when, in 1911, one of the most celebrated amateurs, Rev. T.E.R. Philips, went to the observatory at Meudon and took a look through its 33-inch refractor. He was completely blown away. He wrote a piece saying essentially that its optics were otherworldly (ha!) compared with smaller scopes used by amateurs. When one of their own was able to pass into the realm of the pros and come back with this report, the amateurs shut up.
When it was all said and done, the amateurs also had to specialize to remain relevant. They were left with an important but relatively diminished role in astronomy as mere data-gatherers.
During and shortly before this period, as the field of astronomy commanded increasingly large resources from the government, astronomers were differentiating themselves into pros and amateurs. For example, as the Royal Astronomical Society increasingly catered to those astronomers with the best equipment and the most training, the British Astronomical Association was created to meet the needs of the new class of amateurs.
Around 1885, William F. Denning, a particularly highly decorated amateur British astronomer, started arguing that smaller aperture telescopes were superior to larger aperture scopes. He reasoned that larger scopes were more sensitive to atmospheric conditions, more prone to suffer from glare on bright targets such as planets, and less able to resolve subtle details. It should be noted that Denning worked with instruments of less than 13 inches in diameter -- apparently reflectors.
Professional astronomers, outfitted with the likes of the 36-inch Lick refractor, argued against Denning. The argument proceeded, on and off, for over 35 years. Lankford notes that Denning basically never changed his arguments, regardless of the evidence or logic brought against him.
One interesting dynamic in this debate is that, especially in the early stages, it was largely between Denning and American professionals. Lankford doesn't particularly explore this, though.
A key point in the controversy occured when respected amateur A.S. Williams reported discovering spots on Saturn with his 6.5-inch reflector that no one else seemed able to see, not even with the monster at the Lick. Even Denning was doubtful. When Captain William Noble, former president of the BAA (the amateur group), defended Williams at a meeting of the RAS, he came across as a rather uneducated enthusiast. For example, Noble confused the optical phenomena of chromatic and spherical aberration. This episode showed in stark contrast the growing gap in specialist expertise (such as knowledge of optical theory) between pros and amateurs.
Another very interesting point -- indeed, one of the few interesting points of this whole thing -- is that Williams was intent on catching the faintest, subtlest details on Saturn's surface; whereas pros such as E.E.Barnard at the Lick were more interested in features that could be documented with certainty, measured with mathematical precision, etc. This demonstrated that the pros and amateurs were already developing different visual vocabularies and ways of seeing.
The controversy more or less ended when, in 1911, one of the most celebrated amateurs, Rev. T.E.R. Philips, went to the observatory at Meudon and took a look through its 33-inch refractor. He was completely blown away. He wrote a piece saying essentially that its optics were otherworldly (ha!) compared with smaller scopes used by amateurs. When one of their own was able to pass into the realm of the pros and come back with this report, the amateurs shut up.
When it was all said and done, the amateurs also had to specialize to remain relevant. They were left with an important but relatively diminished role in astronomy as mere data-gatherers.
Krasny & Bonney – Environmental Education through citizen science and participatory action research - By Gina
The article summarizes the challenges and goals for citizen science projects and participatory action research emphasizing the need to balance interests among participants, students, educators, and scientists. With these diverse interests comes a flurry of challenges for citizen science including balancing science and education, ensuring data quality, forming partnerships to enhance educational goals, evaluating impacts, and building institutional support for such activities (p180).
Longer Summary
The article focuses on two case studies one of which is on the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s (CLO) successful citizen science projects, as well as Cornell’s Garden Mosaics project.
CLO offers many citizen science projects including Project FeederWatch, Classroom Feeder Watch, The Birdhouse Network, etc. Many of these programs work because of the balance of goals. First, looking at research goals, scientists realized they could collect data through a count protocol that proved to be statistically and scientifically successful (p179). While in the process of collecting data, participants began to raise interesting questions regarding bird habitats, migration patterns, etc. With this response, scientists realized that there needed to be more attention paid to the educational aspects of the project. This is when CLO partnered with their education division to devise “research kits” that explained the process of collecting the data as well as potential findings (p179). This partnership between scientists and educators allowed the participants to not only contribute to a scientific research project, but to also gain an education or learning experience as well.
All projects, no matter how successful, come with challenges. Here we will summarize the challenges and their respective descriptions.
Balancing science and education – “Engaging lay people in real research raises questions about what kinds of scientific questions are appropriate for various audiences and how the research promotes educational goals” (p180). Citizen science coordinators need to be open to changing research or educational components to meet the needs of all participants.
Ensuring data quality – There are three main issues under this challenge, data collection protocol, data editing and analysis, and observer training. First, the protocol developed for CLO’s bird counting considered people’s weekly schedule allowing more people to participate while still being scientifically sound. Second, to ensure accurate data editing and analysis, participants are prompted by “friendly messages” to double-check their entries if the computer has determined that a data point doesn’t make sense. Additionally, scientists double check and “clean” the data after entry. Lastly, CLO offers training opportunities for all participants.
Forming partnerships to enhance educational goals – “The key to successfully adapting and disseminating projects has been to work closely with educators to develop materials that they can meld into their own programs” (p182).
Evaluating impacts – Citizen Science projects should partner with education or communication departments that can help conduct project evaluations or surveys. These surveys can evaluate what the participants have learned or taken away from the study.
Building institutional support for Citizen Science – It is important for citizen science projects to have the commitment and resources they need. This means support from their parent organization in terms of employees and financial resources. Additionally, many projects apply for outside grants.
After reviewing these challenges, the section concludes with three reasons for why citizen science projects should exist. First, they comment that both the researchers and participants benefit from the project. Second, these projects create a culture where there is support for both educational and scientific goals. Lastly, when done properly, there is a nice division of labor between educators and scientists. This fair division allows programs like CLO to run smoothly.
The second case study, Garden Mosaics, has similar goals, but is more focused on learning science content, having students participate in an environmental action project, as well as form partnerships with their elders (p185). For the first point of learning science content, organizers realized that they needed to provide more guidance compared to that of citizen science projects. Second, once the science learning occurs, students are required to take that new knowledge and create an action project. This project emphasizes not only learning, or “taking away” local knowledge, but also giving back to that local community. This is also where students begin to form relationships with their elders.
The article ends with the recognition that Citizen Science projects do not directly influence behavior. They state, “Citizen Science does not directly address some of the behavioral goals of environmental education, particularly those that focus on changing personal behavior. Rather Citizen Science defines behavior change in terms of critical thinking, and it is hoped that through engaging in such thinking during their research, participants will be better able to analyze information about the environmental issues and to make sound decisions about the environment” (p192).
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