Speaker feature
The evolution of science communication: Bruce Lewenstein reflects on changes, challenges, and the future
Dr Bruce Lewenstein, a professor in the Department of Communication at Cornell University, is a renowned authority on public communication of science and technology, focusing on how science information is reported and understood by the public.
Lewenstein was one of the key speakers at the Communicating Discovery Sciences Symposium held this November in Stellenbosch, South Africa. Organised by Stellenbosch University’s Centre for Research on Evaluation, Science and Technology (CREST) with support from the Kavli Foundation, the symposium aimed to deepen understanding of effective public engagement with foundational – or discovery – science.
During a break between sessions, Lewenstein shared insights on the evolution of science communication, highlighting what has changed, what remains constant, and his hopes the field’s future. He also shared his serendipitous start into the field that would become his lifelong passion.
A serendipitous start
Lewenstein’s career in science communication began immediately after earning his undergraduate degree. “I worked for three years, then went back to graduate school to study the history of science, specifically the history of the idea of public understanding of science,” he recalls.
His transition to academia was unplanned but fortuitous. He secured a tenure-track position that perfectly aligned with his interdisciplinary background, teaching both science journalism and the history of science. “It was a name-brand school, within driving distance of my in-laws, and I thought, okay, let’s try it. If it works, it works. If not, that’s okay too.” Thirty-seven years later, Lewenstein remains in the field, reflecting on a career defined by both teaching and research.
Changes in the field: growth and opportunities
Lewenstein highlights three significant changes in science communication since he started almost four decades ago.
The first is the growth in creativity and opportunities. “When I started, there wasn’t much activity involving communities or diverse media,” he recalls. Today, communication landscapes have expanded dramatically. “Now we have podcasts and students who tell us, ‘Don’t post that on Facebook; make a TikTok,’” he says with a smile. The democratization of communication tools has opened new doors for engagement, especially for younger generations.
The second major change is a shift in cultural attitudes within the scientific community. “Forty years ago, there was a stigma attached to popularization,” Lewenstein explains. “Scientists joked that you weren’t a ‘serious’ scientist if you engaged with the public. That’s no longer the case. While some may still prefer to prioritize research, outreach is widely accepted as part of the job.”
Perhaps most transformative – and challenging – change has been the emergence of science communication as a distinct field of research. “When I started, the work was scattered,” he notes. Studies on science journalism, risk communication, and informal science learning existed, but they operated in silos.
Lewenstein credits networks like the Public Communication of Science and Technology (PCST) for bridging these gaps. “The PCST Network was a catalyst, explicitly bringing together scholars and practitioners from around the world. It helped build vital connections across regions and disciplines.”
In the 1990s, Lewenstein and John Durant co-founded the Public Understanding of Science journal, which played a crucial role in establishing a growing body of literature and linking previously isolated domains.
Outreach vs. engagement: a lingering challenge
Despite significant advances in science communication, challenges remain – particularly when it comes to distinguishing between outreach and genuine engagement. “Most scientists are doing wonderful outreach, but not engagement in the sense of dialogue,” Lewenstein explains. True dialogue, he emphasizes, means both parties are open to learning and changing their opinions. This can be difficult due to the inherent tension between expertise and democracy. “We believe in both, but they do not always go together very well,” he elaborates. Experts possess specialized knowledge that others may not. Lewenstein describes this as a “reflective challenge” for the field.
Citizen science: a case study in complexity
Lewenstein’s work in citizen science illustrates this tension. At Cornell, a leader in citizen science, he was asked to write an article on how citizen science contributes to trust in science.
Initially thinking it would be a straightforward assignment, he was surprised by his findings.
“Citizen science promises inclusion, bringing diverse voices into the scientific process,” Lewenstein says. However, in practice, he found the participants are overwhelmingly older, white, suburban women which skewed the science itself. His conclusion argued that while citizen science aspires to inclusivity, achieving it is far more complex. “Simply getting people involved does not necessarily make science better.”
This discovery raises broader questions about democracy and inclusion in science. Lewenstein points out that it’s not just about gender or race. It’s also about factors like disabilities, language, and cultural knowledge. “How do we respect Indigenous knowledge about stars or plants without appropriating it?” he asks. These are hard questions without easy answers.
Education and training: where do we start?
Lewenstein emphasizes the need for training in science communication but acknowledges the challenges involved. “Most textbooks are written by practitioners who excel at outreach but don’t address theoretical complexities,” he explains. He raises the question of whether this training should occur at the undergraduate level, within graduate programs, or through specialized master’s courses? He points out that with science curricula typically already packed, adding more content isn’t easy.
He advocates for teaching students how to learn, rather than simply cramming more material into courses. “In the age of the internet, it’s less about memorizing and more about interpreting, evaluating, and synthesizing information,” he says.
The importance of reflection and networking
Events like the November symposium remain vital, even if some of the discussions seem repetitive over time. “After about ten years of this, I wondered, ‘Why am I doing this?’” Lewenstein recalls. However, he soon realized that new people, students, and early-career practitioners continue to benefit from these spaces where they can learn both the practical and reflective aspects of science communication.
He believes that these events foster the creativity that propels the field forward. While most of the younger generation will do good outreach, he says, but a few will become reflective thinkers who question the meaning of public engagement. Those few, he says, will drive innovation in the field.
Looking ahead: balancing expertise and inclusion
For Lewenstein, the future of science communication lies in addressing its reflective challenges. How can we balance expertise with democratic values? How do we include diverse voices in ways that enrich science without compromising its rigour?
He suggests that the answers will emerge through ongoing dialogue, creativity, and a willingness to embrace complexity. While the field has made significant strides, Lewenstein believes that the most exciting questions are still the ones we’ve yet to answer.
Dr Bruce Lewenstein, a professor in the Department of Communication at Cornell University.