The morning of Saturday 7 November 2020 was bright and sunny in Manhattan. I was working in my apartment when I heard a growing clamour outside. At first it was only shouts, but soon I heard whistles, blaring horns, and the banging of pots and pans. People began dancing in the streets and on fire escapes, and hanging out of windows. Others congregated on rooftops. An amplifier began booming Stevie Wonder’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered”, then Three Dog Night’s ebullient “Joy to the World”. It was like a spontaneous New Year’s Eve celebration, but in the morning and without fireworks.

I knew immediately. After four uncertain days since Americans had gone to the polls, the US presidential election had just been called, thanks to the results of the vote tally from Pennsylvania. Joe Biden had clinched victory over Donald Trump (though it was still to take several weeks before he begrudgingly and gracelessly began the transition of power). Non-US citizens may not appreciate just how emotional the moment was to people such as myself, nor why the joy was so intense. A man who had, in my view, ravaged the country he was supposed to govern was heading for the exit – and not a moment too soon.

Later that evening in his victory speech, Biden mentioned science twice, referring to the need to “build on bedrock science” to help fight “the great battles of our time”, among which he included fighting the pandemic and climate change. A few moments later, vice-president-elect Kamala Harris told viewers that they had chosen “hope, unity, decency, science – and, yes, truth”. Biden, who the next day appointed eminent scientists to develop plans to cope with COVID and climate change, would replace the man who had labelled each a hoax.

Politicians can evoke science as facilely as they do the Bible. Even Donald Trump did so

The one who all but failed to act on a virus that had affected over 15 million Americans and killed more than a quarter of a million would be replaced by one who would. Biden is to be inaugurated as the 46th US president on 20 January.

“Science returns to the White House,” said a friend.

Not so fast, I thought.

Means to an end

Politicians can evoke science as facilely as they do the Bible. Even Trump did so. After accepting the Republican nomination last summer, Donald Trump claimed that his own administration was “focusing on the science, the facts and the data” and accused his opponent Biden of not “following the science” – remarks that brought to mind my favourite anti-Trump lawn sign last year: MAKE ORWELL FICTION AGAIN. Even supposedly respectable politicians can ignore scientific findings if the science points to sufficiently unpopular actions. Imagine the reception if one of today’s politicians were to defend a plan to fight climate change by building hundreds of new nuclear-power stations because “the science” said so.

Wisely incorporating science into policies requires three abilities. First, it requires knowing how to listen. Politicians don’t read journal articles but hear voices, and scientific voices are only a tiny subset of the ones clamouring for attention. Those “following the science” know to listen differently to the voices reporting findings that have been checked and cross-checked by peers, and know how to pick out advice from advocacy. Science literacy, it is said, means the ability to choose one’s experts wisely. It’s like the discernment required when choosing a guide to take you to the top of a challenging mountain.

Trump, notoriously, lacked that discernment. Instead, he treated hearsay – and the voices inside his head – as more authoritative than those of respected scientists. He fired the head of his Climate Assessment Panel, as well as the director of the Department of Health and Human Services’ Biomedical Advanced Research and Development Authority, for voicing results that challenged own opinions. He actively sought to destroy the integrity of scientific institutions, and regarded science as a mere “special-interest” group. Over half his term elapsed before he had a science adviser.

Using science effectively requires recognizing the range of policy alternatives suggested by the findings

Second, using science effectively requires recognizing the range of policy alternatives suggested by the findings. There are almost always more than one, and the findings are often imprecise, underdetermined or conflicting – which is most overt when models are involved, as in climate-change predictions. This is like understanding the full range of possible routes up the mountain.

Finally, there’s judging which of the possible paths you can take given your abilities, limited budgets and allies. “Politics is the art of the possible, the attainable,” as the German statesman Otto von Bismarck famously said, “the art of the next best.”

Read more

The power of authority: why we need to rely on experts

That point was brought home to me when I attended a conference on how to handle a situation that seemed intractable given the radically different and incompatible demands of scientists, politicians, administrators and community members. I remember a scientist outlining his carefully worked out approach, then concluding, “It’s the perfect solution, but it’s not implementable.” The room fell silent. Then, from the back, a voice said softly and clearly, “If it’s not implementable, it’s not a solution.” The pause reflected the participants’ discomfort with the decisive role that politics plays in such situations.

Donald Trump was unable to listen, recognize or judge, while Joe Biden seems to be able to do all three.

The critical point

Several months ago I spoke to a former science administrator of the Department of Energy (DOE) about a disastrous episode in which a valuable scientific instrument was terminated in the wake of disagreements between politicians, DOE officials, laboratory scientists and community members. I asked her what would have made things turn out better. “Trusting relationships,” she said, “between each of those parties.”

Trusting relationships provide the background that allows one to listen, recognize and judge in the first place. Such trust takes a long time to develop – and you can’t vote it in.