Kolsto: Scientific Literacy for Citizenship

Kolsto, S.D. (2001). Scientific literacy for citizenship: Tools for dealing with the science dimension of controversial socioscientific issues. Science Education, 85(3), 291-310

Reviewed by Chris and Laura

This article argues that to effectively participate in discussions involving socioscientific issues, individuals should be aware of eight topics “concerning the nature of science and scientific knowledge” (p. 292). These topics, broadly defined, center on the process of science rather the objective knowledge of scientific concepts per se. We might think of this as being more aware of an S&TS approach to science. (Chris and I agreed that this seemed to be an—albeit ironic—use of the deficit model to reject a traditional deficit model approach to science education!) Kolsto seems to position science education as preparation for citizenship; the bulk of his article concerns strategies for secondary school curriculum, as will be outlined in more depth below.

Kolsto argues that “many of the suggested teaching models suffer from lack of discussion and inclusion of knowledge concerning the nature of science and scientific knowledge” (p. 292). In order to remedy this fact, he proposes that classroom students be exposed to “controversial socioscientific issues.” Rather than just focus on the content of the science involved, however, students should be guided in taking a closer look at “content-transcending topics” such as “the human character of science, values in science, limits of science, and tactics for decision-making in science” (p. 293). By outlining eight “content-transcending topics,” Kolsto argues that he is offering a remedy to the “three challenges” facing science teachers:
• Specificity: As those of us who have delved into the S&TS literature know, “content-transcending topics” typically discussed in regard to the nature or process of science might be too vague or broad to guide a traditional secondary classroom curriculum. Kolsto suggests that his selected topics narrow this broadness.
• Relevance: Teachers should be able to stress how each topics “might contribute to different problems the students might encounter in their adult life” (p. 293).
• Amount of information: It is important that teachers emphasize the amount of knowledge about a particular topic so as to “put it within reach of most students” (p. 293).

By meeting these goals, the eight topics “constitute a minimum range of knowledge, skills, and attitudes necessary to emphasize in science education” (p. 293).

The eight topics suggested are as follows:

Topic #1: Understanding the nature of scientific consensus (or lack thereof). Whom do you believe? The difference between “ready-made-science” and “science-in-the-making” (building off of Latour’s concept) in terms of certainty, disagreement and debate; How the latter can transform into the former (and perhaps vice-versa).

This topics “leaves us with a description of science as involving social processes through which scientists are scrutinizing the validity of presented experimental evidence and proposing explanations and through which consensus sometimes evolves [but not always]” (p. 295).

Why important: To allow students to see that science is both “an institution” and “socially-constructed.” Kolsto argues, “This contrasts the presentation of scientific knowledge as merely the result of the individual works of a few brilliant scientists like Darwin and Einstein and will also constitute a step away from the positivist epistemology often implicit in school science” (p. 296).

Topic #2: Sciences as one of several social domains. Centrally, Kolsto feels that students should understand that science is but one of several “social domains” that exercise influence on decision-making (others being religion, ethics, politics, etc.). Can science “solve” socioscientific problems? The potential for stakeholder disagreement on problems and solutions; The inability of science to weigh different sets of values against each other; Not everything can be broken down into a simple cost-benefit analysis.

Why important: To make students open to, and accepting of, knowledge from domains other than science.

Topic #3: Descriptive vs. normative statements. The issue of “value-free” versus “value-laden” science; In the risk communication field, this issue is often manifested in the phrase “acceptable risk” – that is, on what grounds do we judge risks to be “acceptable” (or not)?

Why important: To make it easier for students to evaluate claims and arguments and discriminate between “knowledge” and opinion.

Topic #4: Demands for underpinning evidence. Scientific inquiry is traditionally seen as objective and neutral. In the context of uncertainty and controversy, however, it is important to consider the motivations of scientists who are arguing as to what counts as “evidence” and what does not.

Why important: To allow students to question what particular interests may be at stake in a particular scientific issue.

Topic 5: Scientific models as context bound. The need to understand local knowledge, even if we don’t necessarily consider it “scientific” in nature; The now-famous Cumbria sheep farmers example.

Why important: To allow students to be able to “criticize expert reports and question the premises and assumptions of relevance that they are based upon” (p. 301).

Topic 6: Scientific evidence. How do we define “evidence?” Similar to topic #4, our underlying values help shape what information we consider valid and what information we do not; The issue of statistical versus anecdotal evidence, manifested in the tension between “no scientific proof” and “I am the proof.” The need for these two camps to understand – rather that dismiss – each other.

Why important: To allow students to have an awareness and appreciation of the role of both “anecdotal” and statistical evidence as important in the decision-making process.

Topic #7: Suspension of belief. What happens when, given uncertainties, scientists decline to give firm answers? All things being equal, “most scientists will restrict themselves to information that they believe to be noncontroversial and consensual among researchers within the field of study” (p. 303). If scientists don’t draw conclusions (“frame” the data), someone else will.

Why important: To show the students that they must, ultimately, make decisions for themselves based on the “best intersubjective knowledge available” (p. 303).

Topic 8: Scrutinize science-related knowledge claims. The role of skepticism in science; The importance of considering contextual and social factors – credibility of the source making a scientific claim, its motivations and values, etc.

Why important: To help students come to question the idea of a “scientific fact” vs. an “opinion.”

** In sum, Kolsto argues that by teaching these topics in the classroom, students will be able to become “autonomous and critical” (p. 307) and to evaluate “socioscientific controversies”and draw informed conclusions, thus fulfilling his idea of “citizenship.” How, you might ask, would this sort of curriculum actually be implemented in practice? Kolsto spends a bit of time in the discussion referring to issues of training instructors and forging collaborations between teachers of different subjects to teach these topic areas. Importantly, one would need to have a baseline understanding of both teachers’ and students’ baseline “knowledge and views on science as a social enterprise and science in social contexts” (p. 308) before beginning a curriculum like this.

de Chadarevian, 1996, Laboratory science versus country-house experiments

This article traces an historical debate between Darwin and botanist Julius Sachs regarding Darwin’s findings in botanical experiments, which were published in his book, The Power of Movement in Plants. The article begins by providing a history of the relationship between the two men, then describes Darwin's experiments, his findings, and Sachs’ heated dismissal of Darwin’s ideas.

It seems that Sachs had much respect for Darwin’s Origin of Species, and spoke well of him until Darwin printed findings from experiments that ran counter to Sachs’ results. The debate between the two was about root growth in plants. Darwin proposed that the tip of the root was sensitive to gravity, which ran counter to Sachs’ position, which was considered authoritative.
While Darwin took much care as he tread on Sachs’ toes, Sachs responded with rancor. Chadarevian focuses on the fact that Sachs did not argue with Darwin’s method or theory, but instead, he attacked Darwin’s skill and ability to carry out experiments.

Chadarevian points out that there are contradicting accounts of Darwin’s abilities as an experimenter. Many, like contemporary botanist Asa Gray admired Darwin’s work. They point to his remarkable powers of observation. Others, however, point out that he was carrying out precise measurements with imprecise measuring devices and seemed unaware of any issues.

The latter argument is fairly close to Sachs, who went on to argue that science could not be carried out in one’s country home, but rather required a formal laboratory. Though ultimately, Darwin’s theory about the tip of the root’s sensitivity to gravity prevailed, it only did so after formal experiments in a lab confirmed his results. In this sense, Chadarevian argues, Sachs ultimately triumphs.

I think what Cadarevian is getting at here is that this marks the transition from science as the business of gentlemen to science as a profession. Darwin was a gentleman scholar: a man of means who had the intelligence and leisure to study science. This tradition was exchanged for one in which a proper laboratory was needed to be a scientist. This professionalization of science was a major shift, but I think it was from one form of elitism to another.

Moving upstream

Wilsdon, J., & Willis, R. (2004). See-through science: Why public engagement needs to move upstream. London: DEMOS.

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I selected this reading because of my familiarity with the topic of “upstream” versus “downstream” engagement. This issue is currently very “hot” in regard to how to engage the public on nanotechnology-related issues. After this post are citations for two (2) really good articles that discuss upstream engagement in the context of nanotechnology.

According to Wilsdon and Willis, upstream engagement is based on the realization that “broader social acceptance of new technologies, especially where they are novel and raise concerns, requires open dialogue throughout the development process” (p. 26).

Engagement, in this context, moves “upstream” because we recognize the importance of debating issues in advance of any decision being reached about their implementation. The goal is not to “soften the blow” of already agreed-upon decisions (which downstream engagement implies), but instead to debate concerns before actually reaching such decisions.

The authors used the Royal Society inquiry into nanotechnology applications as an example, in which upstream engagement was used to broaden the scope of the public debate to involve issues that may have been overlooked, such as the social and ethical issues nanotechnology raises.

At its core, upstream engagement does not restrict public input to “particular stages in the cycle of research” (p. 18). Instead, it embraces – indeed, demands – public involvement at the very beginning, when the issue in question is still being defined and “deeper questions about the values, visions and vested interests that motivate” scientists and other stakeholders are still somewhat uncertain (and perhaps underrepresented).

Upstream engagement can help identify more socially-acceptance policies (at least in theory) if we work to get all the issues on the table.

This is a rather general summary. Here are the two citations I promised:

(1) Pidgeon, N., & Rogers-Hayden, T. (2007) Opening up nanotechnology dialogue with the publics: Risk communication or ‘upstream engagement?’ Health, Risk & Society, 9(2), 191-210.

(2) Rogers-Hayden, T., & Pidgeon, N. (2007) Moving engagement “upstream”? Nanotechnologies and the Royal Society and Royal Academy of Engineering’s inquiry. Public Understanding of Science, 16, 345-364.

Lessons without limit: Free choice learning!

Hi all:

Forgot to post this last week. However, it will be relevant to the paper Laura and I will summarize in class this week

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Falk, J.H., & Dierking, L.D. (2002). Lessons without limit: How free-choice learning is transforming America. Walnut Creek, CA: Altamira Press.

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This book focuses on Free Choice Learning (FTL) or more accurately life-long learning. According to the authors, FTL is about

possessing the skills, commitment and capacity to learn across an entire lifetime…it goes without saying that there is a growing awareness of the importance of non-school sources of information and education that extend learning before and after the years of schooling” (pp. 2, 5).

FTL, in other words, is about our ability (as learners) to control what we learn, how, when, how fast, and under what circumstances. FTL stresses that knowledge is not just functional in nature (i.e., so we can get a college degree or a job), but also experiential (we learn simply because it enriches our lives…and because it’s fun).

According to the authors, FTL is the “new wave” of education because it embraces four realities:

(1) Learning is contextual – what we learn depends on our experiences, attitudes, feelings, motivations, and perceived social norms (just like all behaviors to a large extent).

(2) Learning is transactional – we control what we learn as well as why, when and how.

(3) Learning is experiential – we learn best when we can directly experience what we are studying. Francis Bacon would be proud!

(4) Learning is like a diamond: it’s forever - humans are hardwired to seek out and acquire new knowledge, whether it involves our immediate surroundings as infants or more abstract concepts in our adolescent/adult years.


Clarke’s take - The book gives a very eloquent overview of the importance – if not the necessity – of free choice learning in our society. I agree that we are innately programmed to learn and that we spend our entire lives acquiring knowledge, not necessarily because we have to but because we want to do so. However, after reading the book, I am left with one overriding thought: duh! I find it exceedingly obvious that learning is a life-long endeavor that neither begins nor ends in the classroom. Moreover, the authors’ disdain for formalized education is troubling. I would argue that rather than stifling individual creativity, the classroom (broadly defined) gives us the resources and motivation with which to continue future, informal learning.

The authors also treat FTL as a novel concept or as something they only recently discovered. Finally, I found their framework for encouraging FTL rather vague and uninspiring – in effect, riddled with platitudes.

** One final thought: If FTL is contextual, how can we develop any kind of uniform standard for how to go about doing it? **

Dewey (1927) The public and its problems.

Since Gina and I covered the same reading this week, I thought I'd try to contribute something additional to the blog, rather than rehashing what she's contributed. John Dewey's The Public and its Problems deals in large part with the problem of broadening access to scientific and specialized knowledge in way that realizes the ideals of democratic societies. This work comes up a lot, so the Cliff-Notes version might be useful. A disclaimer: I'm cribbing heavily from a paper I wrote on the topic. Anyhow, Dewey's argument in The Public unfolds roughly as follows:

If we believe, as most political philosophers do, that human societies and nations are distinct from bands of animals, we should not try to explain the structure of our societies by referencing subconscious instincts—an impulse to democratic government, for instance—but by focusing our attention on those faculties we possess that are unique to humans. People are distinct from animals in their ability—or at least in the extent of their ability—to perceive the consequences of their actions and adjust their behavior accordingly, so as to maximize positive consequences and minimize negative ones.

If we examine this faculty in the context of social relationships, we can begin to see why political states emerge and how they function. Most actions by and between people are private—which is to say they affect only the individuals in question and are of no legitimate interest to anyone else. But some activities on the part of individuals may have indirect consequences on others. For instance, if two neighboring farmers agree to dam a stream to irrigate their fields, their action, while perfectly pro-social in the context of their dyad, may have devastating consequences for others who live downstream and suddenly have no water.

Thus, the downstream group has an interest in the actions of the farmers. When private actions, such as those taken by the farmers in this example, have indirect consequences that negatively affect a large enough group, that interest group becomes, in Dewey’s terms, a public, with a stake in regulating the actions in question. The public, then appoints officials whose job it is to intervene in the undesirable action. The officials require resources, which are collected from the affected public, and constitute the common-wealth. The officials, who collectively form a government, employ these resources to organize the community into a regulated body, and the people who are subject to this regulation are known as the populus.

But political states come with several sorts of problems. First, officials often turn the wealth and authority invested in them by the public to their own personal ends. This is, Dewey says, only human. Despotic governments throughout history have been prime exemplars of this difficulty. Problem governments also exist for a second reason, which is that, in the face of nasty indirect consequences, people are not always able to identify the source of these consequences or adequately recognize their common interests to a degree sufficient to become an acting public.

Lastly, insofar as publics coalesce in response to adverse consequences that are likely to be locally and temporally situated, new publics are, or would be had they the means, popping into and out of existence all the time—while the governments they create are likely to grind along unresponsively under their own inertia for quite some time.

Democracy, says Dewey, is one sort of response to these problems—potentially an effective one—but has so far been sabotaged by serious inconsistencies among its founding principles. It is, he says, a victim of its own mythology. Americans found colonial laws and practices inappropriate for the frontier. As such, Americans became a public interested in doing away with enforcement of these laws and practices by colonial powers.

Americans who sought to jettison colonial rule needed to rationalize their increasing disobedience to England and found great utility in emerging political philosophies that championed the sovereignty of the individual over that of the government and the church. Such philosophies were snapped up by American revolutionaries with such abandon that it apparently did not matter whether all of them made sense individually or were compatible with one another. More on this in a moment.

Democracy provides a potential solution to earlier problems of the state because, in predicating official power on regular elections and guaranteeing the electorate freedom of expression, it provides a check on officials’ tendency to abuse their power for private ends. To stay in power, government officials must first and foremost serve the interests of the electorate. Unfortunately, the reality of democratic societies has relegated these checks on official power to theory and rhetoric. And this is largely because of some founding fallacies perpetuated in democratic government. One of these is the notion that the individual can be a sovereign.

By predicating our legal structure on the notion that individuals can, through their rationality, work and live in full independence of one another, we (1) forget that all our human faculties are developed in and by larger communities, and (2) consequently grant rights to individuals to do things that are ultimately destructive to the community as a whole. This makes room for a second fallacy—namely that laissez faire capitalism can benefit the community, that individuals can act in their own interests and, in doing so, serve the greater good. In fact, says Dewey, capitalism has run amok, and while the government itself has carefully avoided laying hands on its citizen-consumers, industry has risen to become the new organizing force in society. The doctrine of capitalism ultimately preserves pre-democratic notions of property rights, which benefit the elite at the expense of the community.

The industrial revolution and the first World War ultimately brought this division between the capitalist elite and the working masses into sharp relief. In the wake of advances in science and industry, democracy and capitalism have called forth bureaucracy. Production and large-scale governance have begotten specialized work roles. All knowledge has become specialized, and the pioneer ideal that any person can do any task has faded, or at least become more rhetoric than reality. This specialization adds inertia to our systems of class and governance. When no one can wrap his or her head around the mechanisms from which undesirable consequences proceed, no public can organize itself. Matters of importance to the people are decided outside their purview and when they do speak, through elections, they are most often asked to choose between vetted candidates and bills on largely superficial grounds.

Thus the specialization and abstraction that have entered into science and industry serve the elite at the expense of the populus. Dewey insists that until the fruits of science and elite knowledge can be made accessible to the layperson, the public will remain eclipsed and alienated, while the elite will continue their rule. Thus, improved education and communication are necessary if specialized knowledge is to be opened to the masses and the public thereby emancipated. Until such time as this improved communication is available, democracy, in its ideal form, cannot exist. And until ideas and modes of governance are road-tested through social experimentation in everyday life, for and by the public, our knowledge of how best to regulate the populus cannot increase, and scientific ideas cannot serve the common good.

Political Communication and Deliberation Chapter 1, By John Gastil - Comments by Gina

Note: This book is in the process of being published, so only chapter 1 was available. I also read some other articles by the same author.

The author opens with a question, how do we know when we have a democracy? He sets three criteria:

• Inclusion - A democracy must allow all adults within its geographic boundaries to take part in the political process, noting that society has to decide what age an adult is.
• Participation Opportunities - A democracy must allow all adults to have "equal and adequate opportunities to participate in three related ways - putting issues on the agenda, expressing your views on those issues, and voting on these issues, directly or indirectly" (p6).
• Enlightened Understanding - All participants in the democracy must have a chance to recognize which topics concern them, have an opinion on them, and be aware of how they would vote given the opportunity.
  

Definition of Deliberation - "When people deliberate, they carefully examine a problem and arrive at a well-reasoned solution after a period of inclusive, respectful consideration of diverse points of view" (p8).

He then outlines the steps of deliberation

1. create a solid information base to understand the problem or issue
   
2. identify and prioritize the key values at stake with the problem or issue
3. identify a broad range of solutions to address the problem/issue
4. weight the pros, cons and trade offs to these solutions in step 3 by applying our values from step 2
5. Hopefully, you end with the best decision possible

Gastil notes the connection between deliberation and the social process of communicating. It is in this next section that I saw a potential breakdown in science communication in terms of his characteristics of deliberation. He states,

"Less intuitive is the idea that you also have a right to comprehend what others are saying, albeit within limits. If another person explains a problem to you in terms you cannot understand, it may be that you lack the technical training necessary to comprehend the complexity of the issue. It is more likely, though, that the speaker has not made an effort (or simply failed) to communicate in a way that you can understand" (p9)

This is one of the key components that could potentially break down the deliberation process for many people. Recall that according to Gastil's democratic characteristics, people have the right to have an "enlightened understanding." If they cannot understand a speaker's presentation, their journal article, or their visuals, do they have the opportunity for enlightened understanding?

The last section of the chapter outlines the rest of the book, but also poses statements that warrant more research. He opens with, "One of the challenges of studying deliberation and political communication is that they happen in so many different places - from street corners to legislatures. But even more difficult is tracking them across different levels of analysis" (11). The chapters in his book appear to look at these different levels (face to face, group, organizational, etc.)

He ends with, and I pose the question for our consideration, "Are we deliberating? If not, how can we make the process more deliberative?" (12) When we think about public meetings on environmental issues, for example, are they deliberative? Does everyone have a right to vote? to be aware? to have enlightened understanding?

See-through Science: Why public engagement needs to move upstream

James Wilsdon and Rebecca Willis have authored a pamplet discussing and arguing for a new model of public engagement with science, the upstream movement.
A brief historical overview critiques earlier phases of public engagement with science, beginning with the deficit or PUS model, and then moving on to a dialogue, but downstream, in which public dialogue with science and technology occurred only after directions, goals, values and trajectories had already been established by experts, with the public merely reacting negatively to an already stable science or technology. The mistakes of this approach are exemplified by the GM debate. To avoid this in newer science and technology initiatives such as nanotechnology, engagement must move "upstream" during the initial development process itself. This is necessary from a pro-science and technology government standpoint as well as an activist standpoint, because proponents of science and technology realize, having received a black eye from the GM debate, that earlier public engagement in science can help identify, diffuse or solve problems earlier, before they become crises.

In Chapter 2, Wilsdon and Willis argue that the exclusive focus on risk assessment in much current public engagement discourse is a dominating tyranny squeezing out fruitful discussion of larger questions, such as why this technology and not another, who needs it, who controls it, who benefits from it, can they be trusted, and what will it mean for everyday people?
Focus on risk ignores these larger questions because they deal with sociopolitical issues, and risk assessment allows the topic to consider only techno-fixes.

This is related in Chapter 3 to the reasons why governments which to engage the public with science. These are normative–because people seem to think it is the right thing to do; instrumental–because engagement serves the interests of government or industry; and substantive–to improve quality of decision-making, create more socially robust scientific and technological solutions, improve social outcomes in a deeper way, involving citizens as participants in the process.
Most current public engagement activities do so mostly for instrumental and a bit of normative reasons, but few do so for substantive reasons, which the authors wish to promote. They point out the difference between forms of engagement which close down rather than open up debate, critiquing the Royal Society's model of public involvement as one out of many checkboxes for proceeding with nanotech as deficit model Mark 2.
There are many methods of public engagement, including deliberative polling, focus groups, citizens' juries, consensus conferences, stakeholder dialogues, internet dialogues, and deliberative mapping.
Each of these has different characteristics with regard to openness, representation, hierarchy, purpose.
When choosing a method of engagement, one must ask, is the goal to have a process of deliberation where views are formed and discussed, or simply to take a snapshot of existing views in order to inform decisions? Is the sample supposed to be representative? Is the relationship between expert and lay in the process hierarchical or not? Is the goal to arrive at consensus or to explore views?
The authors argue that a true, substantive engagement with science needs to go beyond merely voicing public concerns, interests and opinions on science, but must become part of the decision making process of science itself. This is political, thus public engagement must become part of the process of deliberative democracy.

Chapter 4 discusses the need for public engagement of corporate, as well as government funded, science and technology. Finland's model of open, citizen-led innovation is held up as a model. Corporate social responsibility and sustainability are potential avenues for public engagement with corporate R&D to gain traction. However two tendencies, that of marginalization and of bureaucratization, need to be countered. In addition, a more nuanced approach towards the precautionary principle (it can, contrary to conventional wisdom, be good for innovation in proper regulatory environments), is needed.

Finally, in the last chapter Wilsdon and Willis articulate their vision of upstream public engagement of science: see-through science. A number of criteria for see-through science are necessary: the government must be clear and transparent about how the outcomes of its engagement initiatives will be used in decision-making. The process should be deliberative, allowing public and expert to exchange views without priority to be given to either one, and both civil society and the political process should be involved, and engagement should take place early enough in the science/technology's development to affect its trajectory. The debate should set the agenda for future research, informing research priorities. Afterwards, continued dialogue via smaller engagements should be conducted to revisit issues and keep up with research as it develops. The findings should inform the national stance on the issue in international forums, and will bolster its democratic legitimacy.

Lastly, the authors argue that proper upstream engagement with science will have the potential to transform the practice of science itself, pointing to Rob Doubleday, a sociologist, embedded in a research lab helping to communicate and mediate between the scientists and social scientists and the public. They promote more reflective capacity of scientists themselves, bringing out the public in the scientist–scientists need to see themselves as parents and citizens, and more contact with non-experts and laypeople should help them gain broader perspectives on the social implications of their work.
Finally, the authors recommend that companies, NGOs, and the media be reached out to in new ways to further the cause of see-through science.

While the Forward's tone is celebratory of science and technology as the engine of Britain's continued economic competitiveness, and thus calls into question the motives of the pamphlet, it is clear that Wilsdon and Willis see public approval of state S&T initiatives as only part of the reason for upstream endeavors, albeit one which can be leveraged to sell their vision of see-through science to politicians, policy-makers, and corporate leaders. Rather, their agenda is that a science which involves the public at its earliest stages will be more socially responsible and richer in the long run, serving the needs of society rather than the narrow needs/imaginations of technocratic elites. They draw from some S&TS work such as Steve Hilgartner and Sheila Jasanoff, but overall their attitude towards science and technology is more positive than critical. Rather, it is the fact that the public is excluded from the deliberative decision-making processes going into S&T that they disapprove of, and hope to change with their manifesto. Their vision of see-through science seems to almost invoke a utopia of civil society, government, and techno-scientific experts all working in harmony for the betterment of society through socially and environmentally responsible science and technology.