Proving is the problem
…or why precision wording is essential in science communication.
I popped open my inbox the other morning to do my usual morning email review and purge. As I reviewed some of the more non-essential newsletter announcements, I came across a summary for an upcoming training available in my area that looked potentially useful.
And then I came across that word. You scientists know the one I mean. The one that is so misused in common vernacular to describe science and research it makes me cringe every time I see it.
Proves. (or prove, or proven, or whatever iteration you like.)
Essentially the sentence was something like “and this technique is scientifically proven to increase positive work ethic and motivation.”
Now I have several issues with the word proven, especially when used in the popular press, or science journalism because it often signifies a blatant lack of understanding of science.
But I have an even bigger problem when the “proof” of science is propped up and used as a marketing ploy to get people to buy into a product or ideology.
Put simply: Science very rarely proves anything.
One of the common misnomers, and one I’ve been guilty of saying myself on occasion, is the idea that science proves theories about how something works. What the scientific method actually does, in its purest form, is test hypotheses and either support existing theories, or uncover alternate interpretations.
So let’s say I have a hypothesis that all trees’ leaves are green because that is what I have observed in my environment. Now to test that hypothesis, I gather samples of tree leaves to see if they are in fact all green. Let’s say that they are.
Does that prove that all tree leaves are green? All the time? Every tree?
What about the trees I didn’t get leaves from because they’re not in my geographical area? What about if I chose my sample in the fall, when deciduous trees’ leaves turn colors?
It’s that second round of questions, the ones that keep probing at the theory that get us toward a scientific consensus about something. These questions go deeper and create a more honed understanding of reality. Some trees leaves are green all the time. Some trees leaves are green for several months, then turn a different color before they fall to the ground at the end of their yearly cycle. This continued inquiry creates a much more nuanced understanding of reality than the more sexy headline of: “Science proves all trees’ leaves are green!”
And this is the way of all science — there is nuance. It’s never as simple as “all trees’ leaves are green!” Especially in the world of social science where it is quite literally impossible to control and measure all potential variables. In conducting scientific experiments, we can only measure the observable world to the best of our ability based on our understanding of it, and make logical conclusions based on the data available.
However, that’s not to say that science can’t create some consensus around an idea. If there’s a lot of evidence to support an idea of how something operates, then we have some agreement on a particular theory of how that thing works.
Gravity for example: there’s a reasonable level of scientific consensus around how gravity works based on our understanding from testing the observable world (granted, I am not a physicist or mathematician, so I could be completely wrong here.) However, if humans in 100 years discover situations in which the laws of gravity as we understand them are broken, our scientific understanding of how gravity operates, what it is, and what it means would have to shift. That’s the scientific process — the honing, changing, shifting of understanding based on new data. And these contradictions uncovered in the line of inquiry and discovery are what makes science beautiful, complex and inherently useful.
But in science, precision is essential.
The proper measurements, tools, analyses — these must all be calibrated and conducted in the best way possible to reduce error, or those pesky outlier effects that mess up our data, and subsequently alter our best understanding of how things operate.
But precision in writing is essential too. I dare say most writers would argue that choosing the perfect word to convey a particular meaning is imperative to great writing. It’s something writers spend hours, nay years, honing; the ability to precisely describe a scene, articulate a character’s emotions, or summarize a complex historical event. It’s an essential tool in the writer’s toolbox.
So why is it that writing about science can be so imprecise? Both fields value precision of thought and articulation. But somehow, when they meet, too often the result is watered down gobbledygook.
Now I could go on a tirade about the downfall of science journalism, but I’m not going to do that today. Because I get it. It’s difficult to write about science in a nuanced way that’s also accurate. Especially when you’re writing about a field that is unfamiliar to you, as many science journalists are.
But let’s get one thing straight: Using the phrase “science proves” does a disservice to science.
And using the “proof” of science as a marketing ploy is downright shameful.
Consider this claim: “In this course you’ll learn techniques that are scientifically proven to increase your intimacy with your partner.”
So what happens if after learning and using these techniques, your partner leaves you? Or you find yourself more unhappy than you were before? Does it mean that science is wrong?
Or are you?
The simple certainty and unflinching rigidity of the word “proven” doesn’t allow for variability. These subtle messages we send about proven science set us up for dichotomies of certainty that frankly don’t exist. Eventually that forced sense of certainty becomes so taught it snaps, and people conclude that consensus in science is a mirage.
And then they begin to doubt everything about science. The baby goes out with the bathwater, and we end up with disbelief and frustration in ALL science. And that serves no one well. Because though science has its faults, it also helps us solve many of our most complicated and pervasive world problems.
So if you’re going to write about science, or use research to support a claim or heaven forbid sell a product, please do so very carefully.
Science suggests. Science uncovers. Science enlightens. Science discovers. Science builds consensus. Science provides theories. Science tests hypotheses….
But science is fallible. Science is uncertain. Science is unsettled. Science is unproven. Science is gray; not black and white.
Science is one of many tools we as humans have developed for more deeply understanding our world.
There is immense value in what science has to offer. But we must be more clear in what that offering is, and subsequently, what it isn’t.
Thanks for reading! If you found this article helpful, please consider liking and sharing with others.
You can also find me on the inter webs on Twitter (@DrLangworthy) and YouTube (youtube.com/developmentalenthusiastchannel) or on my website (www.drlangworthy.com)
