Scientist turned journalist Caitlin Looby discusses the importance of improving science communication to rebuild public trust. Drawing from her experiences in both professions, Looby advocates for localising science messages, avoiding jargon and finding the compelling stories within data. The piece highlights the need for scientists to engage with communities and media to make science more relatable and accessible and to bridge the gap between scientists, journalists, and the public.
Eight minutes
To engage the public meaningfully, scientists need to get better at communicating. How? Get local, ditch the jargon and find the story in the data
During my first of more than a dozen trips to Costa Rica, I embarked on an 8km hike through the jungle, winding my way to the remote beach of Playa Llorona in Corcovado National Park. I was in my early 20s, standing at the threshold of my first career – as a tropical field ecologist – but also at a turning point.
For children, science can be the subject that sparks the most excitement and wonder; it captures imaginations and fuels boundless curiosity. But as they grow older, this subject of fantastic revelations and real-world experimentation often transforms into one that many students dread or even fear. Complex topics, challenging concepts and pressure to perform academically can make science feel intimidating and overwhelming, something from which to disengage.
On my hike that day, I realised that I had lost touch with my sense of curiosity, a revelation that was to become a guiding principle for me. Since then, I have let curiosity drive my choices and careers in science, science communication and journalism. By embracing wonder, I approached scientific research with an open mind, asking the questions that genuinely intrigued me.
The same curiosity allowed me to evolve as a scientist and, later, a journalist, not only shifting the questions I asked but also committing to those I felt it was most important to engage (and re-engage) with – the public.
At its core, science is about finding connections. It’s about uncovering patterns, putting together pieces of a puzzle and linking small details with a bigger picture – but these connections are often lost when it comes to translating big ideas for the general public. Building trust in science is about figuring out how to preserve and amplify that connection and foster a sense of belonging, participation and shared purpose in scientific endeavours.
Public trust in science is not what it used to be. In the US, surveys show that only about a quarter of Americans express a great deal of confidence in science. The reasons are complex, involving misinformation, cultural divides and misunderstandings about how science works. Perhaps most profoundly, less than half of Americans see scientists as good communicators. Globally, though, there is a desire to see scientists engage in both science communication and policymaking. A language barrier exists between scientists and the public, as scientists rely on confusing jargon and struggle with communicating complex topics, often alienating the very public they are so desperate to reach.
Public trust in science hasn’t always been this fragile. Historically, breakthroughs such as vaccines, antibiotics and space exploration united societies in wonder and gratitude. These moments were celebrated as victories for humanity, transcending individual politics or beliefs. Today, whether it’s the debate over vaccines, scepticism about climate change or the politicisation of public health measures, scientific findings are often weaponised to reinforce existing divides – or make divisions appear greater than they are.
The internet and social media are key aspects in this fractured connection, since they have enabled the rapid spread of misinformation. Social media algorithms, designed to maximise engagement, amplify sensationalist or misleading content. This content is often what feels comfortable and already fits within a person’s worldview.
Meanwhile, scientists communicate in probability and uncertainty, using words like ‘could’, ‘may’ and ‘likely’. To the public, this language sounds unconvincing, especially when presented as an antidote to misinformation. The pandemic highlighted how the rapid spread of the virus outpaced science, leading to shifting guidance on
masks, distancing and more. While scientists understood this as evidence evolving in real time, the public often saw it as indecision, fuelling conspiracy theories that scientists had hidden agendas.
For years, science and academia have been seen as elitist and out of touch with everyday life. I’ve often encountered this attitude before explaining that my research involved more than a decade of gruelling fieldwork – hiking in extreme conditions, covered in mud, dodging killer bees – while working more than 80 hours each week for a wage that could not even cover basic expenses.
The academic ‘ivory tower’ that most people think of is not the science I know and not the one that most early-career scientists know. And while younger generations of scientists are working hard to dismantle this perception, scientific institutions (perhaps inadvertently) reinforce this perception by prioritising publishing journal articles over engaging with the public and creating an environment in which publication, overwhelmingly, is the means to obtaining funding, resources and coveted university appointments.
Fractures between science and society have real consequences because, without trust inciting collective action, addressing crises such as climate change becomes nearly impossible. The question then is: How can science and those who communicate science better connect with the public to build back that trust?
Fractures between science and society have real consequences because, without trust inciting collective action, addressing crises such as climate change becomes nearly impossible
My careers in science, science communication and journalism have taken me all across the US. These moves not only shaped my perspective of how to talk about science but also highlighted the importance of tailoring communication so that it resonates with local audiences.
Climate change, for example, is often framed as a global-scale problem – and it undoubtedly is – but this can feel distant and abstract to people whose daily lives and issues are rooted in a specific place. What is often missed is that climate change is profoundly local. It manifests itself in the floods that devastate a neighbourhood, the wildfires that consume homes and the drought that destroys a field of crops. Today, most people either have experienced an extreme weather event themselves or know someone who has.
Scientists need to seek out opportunities to connect with those communities specifically, but they often lack understanding about how science becomes news, thus prioritising national platforms over local outlets. But local media offers a chance to build personal relationships (leading to community trust) by having a presence in the community, addressing issues that are relevant to the community, highlighting local successes and giving a face to the science by including local experts.
To achieve this, though, we first need to change what it means to be successful in science, and that requires buy-in from academic institutions. As it stands now, the ‘publish or perish’ culture actively disincentivises science communication, trust building and efforts to engage with the public on both a local and global level.
Institutions should embrace the hiring of ‘science communicators’ – people educated or trained in communicating science to the public – to train faculty and students, rather than relying solely on faculty for these efforts, recognising that scientists simply cannot do everything it takes to be a successful scientist, teacher, mentor, grant writer, communicator and engaged citizen.
Another vital connection to foster is between scientists and journalists. Both professions share a mission to answer society’s important questions, albeit on different timelines. Yet the relationship between scientists and journalists remains complex – and sometimes fraught – as scientists and journalists are quick to blame each other when information is sensationalised or not quite accurate. It’s a blame game that I, too, have taken part in.
Media organisations have a role to play, too. Journalists must be given time and resources to report scientific issues responsibly by providing context and depth. Stories should not be fear-driven and should emphasise solutions where it makes sense. Partnerships between scientists and journalists can help bridge gaps in understanding and ensure that stories are both accurate and accessible.
Storytelling can also humanise science. Sharing anecdotes about the challenges and joys of research – whether it’s the exhilaration of a breakthrough or the frustration of failed experiments – can make scientists more relatable. I noticed that when I led with stories about what my science ‘looked like’ – mountains, mud, sweat and killer bees – that people were much more likely to inquire about what I found and what it means.
The public is more likely to listen to what scientists have to say when they see them as individuals with passion, curiosity and humility rather than as distant, infallible experts.
The public also has a role to play. This means seeking out reputable sources of scientific information, asking questions and staying curious. People must recognise that science is a process with no real endpoint.
We don’t need to wait for society to achieve perfect consensus before taking action. Small pockets of trust can lead to meaningful change. If we commit to fostering curiosity, emphasising shared experiences and breaking down barriers, we can transform science into something that feels personal, inclusive and worth trusting again.
Caitlin Looby is a scientist-turned-journalist based in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She spent more than a decade studying climate change in tropical forests and now covers the Great Lakes for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.
Graham Samuels is an illustrator and animator living in Stockholm, Sweden; his work is entirely handmade ‘from the beginning’. He works with clients in advertising, publishing, fashion and television, as well as musical artists.
This feature first appeared in RSA Journal Issue 1 2025.
