Participants in a climate conversations workshop learn about tools to build trust and authenticity when engaging with communities about planetary change. Photo by Kim Kenny
Science outreach puts research into everyone’s hands
By Nancy Steinberg and Abby P. Metzger
Fall/Winter 2022
A renowned climate scientist and a graduate student sit down to have a conversation with community members who are noncommittal in their opinions about climate change.
Another graduate student shows an eight-year-old at the Corvallis Farmers Market samples of common rocks and teaches her a little about how they form.
A team of scientists meets with members of Latina/o/x coastal communities in Oregon to find out how to work together to develop materials that communicate the risks of earthquakes and tsunamis.
These scenes may not seem like they come from the daily diary of a heavily research-focused Earth science institution, but outreach is central to the scientific enterprise. Climate change, coastal hazards, water resources … all of these topics and more have implications far beyond the ivory tower. But translating that research to help people take action or just learn something new and exciting is both critical and challenging.
Science outreach combines aspects of communication, pedagogy and good old-fashioned human connection. The growing field of the science of science outreach provides guidelines on best practices that should steer the design and implementation of high-quality outreach programs. When done poorly, science outreach can increase skepticism and distrust and fuel the fires of misinformation. When done well, people gain helpful information, society gains informed voters, and science itself benefits immensely both from public support and from learning what issues are important to communities.
“Traditional science outreach has primarily focused on the interests and needs of the scientist and what they think the public would benefit from knowing,” says Ryan Brown, CEOAS outreach coordinator.
“However, each individual and community has its own special flavor of curiosity related to science and sharing knowledge. If a scientist wants to really connect with individuals and communities, they develop relationships, learn what is needed or wanted, and create programs and activities to fit those desires. In this way, the learning is developed as a group effort and shared as an interactive activity, turning the focus away from the scientist and toward the community.”
Many ongoing CEOAS outreach projects are taking these best practices into account, becoming more robust. New projects are engaging disenfranchised communities, being planned with specific aims in mind, and ensuring there is an exchange of ideas, rather than a one-way flow of information.
Latina/o/x community members meet with ¡Peligro LISTO! project staff in Newport in October of 2022. Photo by Jenna Tilt
Good science outreach is … Inclusive
Science, especially Earth science, has an inclusivity problem. It is notoriously white, still majority-male and tends to exclude a range of other minoritized communities. In the U.S. only about 6% of geoscience doctoral degrees are awarded to underrepresented minoritized groups.1
Science communication and outreach has historically not been much better, with a lack of diversity in the sources of the science being shared, who is conducting the outreach and which audiences are the focus of outreach efforts. Even well-meaning trainings intended to enhance community engagement fail to increase inclusivity and lack robust evaluation.2
But attitudes are changing: Scientists and outreach practitioners are beginning to understand that outreach needs to be inclusive and targeted to specific audiences. In practice this can mean asking, which communities need to hear this message? What do they care about? What can I learn from my audience, and, how can I tailor my outreach program to reach them?
Heather Fischer, senior researcher with the STEM Research Center at Oregon State University, studies efficacy and outcomes of science outreach projects. She explains, “If you’re talking to a specific group, like a Native tribe, for example, then it’s important to tailor your program to that group, and to make whatever science you’re teaching include something that connects to their everyday life.”
Science outreach conducted with specific communities can come with pitfalls. It has too often been “extractive,” meaning researchers enter into a community without an existing relationship, disseminate information and then leave without a plan for longer-term engagement. This approach is not effective, and not respectful.
Keeping this guidance in mind can literally save lives. One CEOAS pilot outreach project is using a community-first approach to partner with Latina/o/x communities on the Oregon coast to develop inclusive coastal hazard awareness and preparedness materials. The project is called ¡Peligro LISTO!, meaning “Hazard Ready” (LISTO is an acronym for Local Información y Suministro de Testimonio y Opiniones, or Local information and supply of testimony and opinions). ¡Peligro LISTO! is part of the larger Cascadia CoPes Hub, a regional effort to coordinate coastal hazards research and help communities prepare and adapt to those hazards.
The Latina/o/x community, the fastest-growing demographic on the Oregon coast, is, as a whole, highly vulnerable to coastal hazards. Many members of that community work in the fishing, fish-processing or hospitality industries close to the ocean. Many don’t speak English, and mainstream outreach efforts on earthquakes and tsunamis have not reached them. Some distrust certain institutions and authorities, and their priorities, community leaders and gathering places may differ from other coastal populations.
¡Peligro LISTO!, focused primarily in Seaside and Newport to start, will have three main phases. Felicia Olmeta-Schult, the Oregon Sea Grant Extension Coastal Hazards Specialist who is one partner on the project, explains that the team will start by examining what already exists: “First, we will assess the existing training materials that are in Spanish that the community has access to, to help inform new training materials,” she says.
Latina/o/x community members meet with ¡Peligro LISTO! project staff in Newport in October of 2022. Photo by Jenna Tilt
They will follow that assessment by working with community partners to co-develop inclusive materials on earthquake and tsunami preparedness. These partners include OSU Lincoln County Extension and Consejo Hispano, an outreach organization that serves the Latina/o/x community in Oregon and Washington. The group will then “train the trainer” to disseminate knowledge and materials. These materials may include videos, in order to reach folks who may understand Spanish but not read it, or handouts with universal infographics.
The investigators on the project — Olmeta-Schult, Assistant Professor Jenna Tilt, and Marine Resource Management graduate student Josh Blockstein — agree that the question of how to impart this information to this specific community goes beyond language barriers. Tilt explains, “Who is affected by hazards and why has a lot to do with who you are and what your background is — not just your social demographics like income, race or ethnicity, but your lived experience and worldview.”
To learn about that worldview, it takes time to build trust and get to know what the community needs. Blockstein, who speaks Spanish, has been spending a lot of time at the coast to begin to build this trust. “I’ve been going to community events, talking to people, pitching what I was thinking and learning if it’s actually relevant. And it feels a lot better to be doing the work to ensure that I’m welcome in those spaces,” he says.
Among the project’s community partners is Beatriz Botello, an OSU Lincoln County Extension program coordinator and Newport city councilor with deep ties to the Latina/o/x community. She agrees that any hazard awareness project needs to go beyond disseminating information.
“We need to not just look at emergency preparedness,” she says, “but also what it means for jobs, for childcare, housing, schooling. This project is taking the opportunity to learn more about what is happening in this community, the dynamics and priorities.”
Tailoring information to this community might mean using WhatsApp in addition to other social media platforms. It might mean making efforts to reach the Guatemalan community, many of whom speak Mam but not Spanish. But first and foremost, the community needs to be engaged in these decisions and in crafting the messages, the very definition of co-production.
Tilt adds that effective outreach means figuring out how and where to work with the community. “If we are asking them to come to a meeting, taking an hour out of their time, we need to be sensitive to their needs, including childcare, how our work may be interfering with their job, and so on,” she says.
Even though the project is only a one-year pilot, the team knows that it is important to build strong partnerships now to ensure that future efforts are successful. “We want to see longevity to the project. Even after the project ends, it’s important to make sure to stay in touch, to maintain a line of communication,” Olmeta-Schult says.
“We want to build capacity and not just stop with the academic products of the project,” Blockstein says.
Good science outreach is … Intentional
When it comes to outreach, Andreas Schmittner takes a cue from David Bowie. The 80s popstar with famously tousled tresses once said, “If you feel safe in the area you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in.”
Schmittner is a climate scientist at Oregon State University who often finds himself sharing his work with the already convinced. But, as he states, “When we want to achieve something, we have to go to that uncomfortable space.”
He and graduate student Katrina Vickery are purposely entering into that uncomfortable space in an outreach project. They plan to host conversations about climate change with the cautious, disengaged and the doubtful — those in the murky middle between on-board climate activists and deniers. “We’re seeking those people who are more likely to say they would change their opinion if the right information was presented to them,” Vickery says.
The climate conversation project is one example of intentional outreach, where scientists spend time learning about a particular audience and deliberately tailoring a program for specific goals, even if those goals are not the primary scientific outcome.
“It’s important for scientists to spend the time to learn about themselves, understanding what motivates them as researchers and as educators, and what they want to accomplish through their outreach efforts,” CEOAS Outreach Coordinator Ryan Brown says. “The resulting interactions are more likely to achieve desired learning outcomes in a way that ensures mutual respect.”
Heather Fischer with the STEM Research Center echoes this sentiment. Any outreach effort — from a static exhibit to a booth at a Saturday market — should identify an overall goal and approach before even getting started.
“It’s important to define, what do you want me to get out of this? What are your goals for the learning mindset? Maybe it’s not even learning. Maybe it’s awareness,” Fischer says.
Good science outreach is … Interactive
Dozens of students stream into a classroom, backpacks, AirPods and iPhones in hand. Two presenters watch as all 40-some seats fill up, ready to talk about minerals, birthstones and how scientists study past climates. But, this will not be a regular class lecture.
Today, students from the Louis Stokes Alliance for Minority Participation program at Oregon State University will handle scientific samples, including precious gems, ancient ice and tree cores to bring to life lessons learned about planet Earth. The NSF-funded program is dedicated to increasing the number of traditionally underrepresented students in STEM undergraduate degree programs. A key component of that effort is letting students in on the scientific process, specifically how researchers collect samples and study their secrets.
Students from the Louis Stokes Alliance for Minority Participation program interact with scientific samples to learn about our planet. Photos by Chance Saechao
While talking about the 12 different birthstones, presenters hand out samples. Almost instantly, the mood changes. Students begin to look closely at the gemstones’ texture and color, paying particular attention to the stone representing their birthday. When the next presenters show a hockey-stick graph of global carbon emissions since the Industrial Revolution, they follow up by passing out an ice core sample. Inside, trapped bubbles hold ancient air, which scientists extract to learn about our climate hundreds of thousands of years ago. Smiles break out as students touch the ice and see the bubbles.
After learning about how gemstones form, or how carbon dioxide emissions have reached unprecedented levels, interacting with samples can demystify the ways that scientists study our planet and know what they know.
“Outreach activities are most successful when they include a process of discovery, an interactive component that facilitates investigation and problem-solving,” Brown says. “They get to touch and feel the evidence, read cue cards, and then piece together a puzzle showing the connection between CO2, temperature and ocean level changes. By the end of the activity, students walk away understanding this connection, as well as the value of studying past climates.”
Measuring outcomes
Even if outreach is inclusive, intentional or interactive, how do we know if efforts were successful?
Enter social scientists, who have robust techniques to assess learning, engagement, a change in perspective or other outcomes.
As Heather Fischer explains, “You can study the people who are doing the outreach and help them improve how they do it. You can also study the outcomes of the people who are experiencing the outreach.” Andreas Schmittner and Katrina Vickery’s climate conversations effort, for example, will do both. This approach will help them measure the success of the training and whether participants indicate an increased sense of trust in science.
Evaluation can be a simple trivia quiz about harmful algal blooms to measure learning, a tried-and-true survey or an hours-long observation of museum goers to see how people respond to an interact with an exhibit.
When done well, the ultimate measure of success for these programs might be a growing understanding between scientists and communities, leading to a better world for both.
Perhaps the entire enterprise needs to be driven by a quest for one more “i”: insight.
1Bernard, R. E. & Cooperdock, E. H. G. Nat. Geosci. 11, 292–295 (2018)
2(https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/1075547020960138)
