Merchants of Doubt Ch. 5-Epilogue

Merchants of Doubt continues to be a fascinating, if not soul-crushing, story of how a few scientists, aided by well-meaning journalists, engender doubt in the public mind about environmental and human-health related catastrophes. This week’s readings were a bit easier for me to digest compared to last week because of the pace of the writing. The authors inched away, ever so slightly, from the laundry lists of committees, people, and he-said, she-said accusations and had a stronger focus on the actions of events, which was aided by the inclusion of more emotions.

The authors added just a sprinkling of human emotions through the use of humor and frustration. The humor, at times, came coated in very nerdy references with which only a small portion of readers might connect. For example, “…type 2 errors aren’t really errors at all, just missed opportunities.” (p 157).  This humor might connect more strongly with a comprehensive exam question than as a joke for a broad audience. I can see students sweating as their committee asks them to explain, given this excerpt 1) the validity of the claim that type 2 errors are missed opportunities and 2) how the probability of the missed opportunity might change with varying levels of alpha. Although experimental biologists might have felt like the authors were giving them a secret high-five with this aside, this line would not connect with most of the general population. Potentially adding more comic relief would help connect with the audience.  

The authors do connect with the audience in a more direct way when their show of emotions comes in the form of anger. When describing the unethical steps the “Cold Warriors” took to discredit science by “…attacking science in the name of freedom” (p 166), the authors reference an unattributed quote of an unnamed epidemiologist criticizing the work of the EPA as “rotten science” (p 166). The authors react in what I could only assume was outright indignation, “Did any one actually say that? Maybe yes, maybe no—there’s way to tell, because it was given without attribution. It’s not the sort of thing scientists typically say, but even if it were true, so what? It would just be the opinion of one man—and hardly evidence of a conspiracy to undermine the free market.” (p 166).

This reaction by the authors in all likelihood mirrors what the readers are feeling. The realization that these men are making conscious, immoral decisions to promote distrust in science is appalling. Both reader and author can throw their hands up in shared frustration that the unethical actions of a small group have permeated so many modern human-health and environmental crisis. This type of response in which authors place themselves within the story by communicating their thoughts and feelings about the given circumstances, does so much to improve the readability of the text. This type of author involvement in the prose was much more common in Elizabeth Kolbert’s writing. Without much use of this technique in the current book, we can observe the power of this technique when it is excluded.

Merchants of Doubt, Introduction-Chapter 4

I have little doubt that I will be in the minority for my opinion about our reading for this week’s seminar. I’ve heard whispers (and sometimes shouts) of ardent love for the content and communication style of Naomi Oreskes and Erik Conway’s Merchants of Doubt from my fellow seminar participants. While the authors tell a historically factual tale of intrigue, deceit, and conspiracy against scientific consensus, I will openly admit that I could hardly keep my eyes open while reading the first half of this book.

I am left wondering why such a fascinating story left me so sleepy and in need of caffeine or a brisk walk. The story seemingly has is all: a small group of rogue scientists have been pulling the wool over the eyes of the American public for decades on the largest environmental and health related issues of our times. Their deceit has delayed and shaped policy and transformed the public understanding of causative factors behind the human health impacts of smoking, acid rain, climate change, and the hole in the ozone layer.

But, my eyes droop every time I crack this book open. And the clack of my officemate’s keyboard becomes more interesting to listen to than concentrating on the tiny words on the pages before me. My lack of interest stems, not from the story, but from its presentation. A few pages into the introduction, we are told the story arc and that the story will be repeated over and over again in different scenarios. The rest of the book tells about these different scenarios in, what was for me, excruciating detail. The combination of an over abundance of details and repetitive story arcs was tiresome to me.

In contrast to Elizabeth Kolbert’s The Sixth Extinction, very few characters are described in much detail in the book. When characters are described, each seems eerily similar to the other. To overgeneralize, they are “hawkish,” male, physics professors. My mind would fill with characters all resembling an aging version of Professor Snape, except in my imagination they are balding, and wearing worn sweater vests and tweed jackets with elbow patches bumbling about as they try to scheme.

The movement of the action was slow and repetitive as well. The description of the actions of committees from corporations and government took to support or negate scientific findings were overly detailed. I felt like I was reading through passive aggressive emails of a couple in the throws of a long-standing argument, given one party is manipulative and deceitful. The overall story was important to me, but the day-to-day quibbles were not.

I am going to throw historians along with scientists into the remedial class for communicating with the public. Simplifying the presentation of the story and removing unnecessary detail might help this text engage a wider audience of people.   

On Collections and their Ethical Implications

We were standing along the Missouri River on a sandy bank as I pled with another graduate student, “Please don’t kill this toad”. I whispered to the unknowing soul, a Woodhouse’s toad, that I would run off with her before he got a chance to inject her and stick her lifeless body in a bag. I felt a little thrill of victory as he relented, saying that they already had some adults from this site of that species this year. Although I couldn’t save the hundreds that were already in jars, I could save this one.

Toads hold a dear place in my heart. They are not uncommon or prized for unique features by most. But as I have come into close contact with them for my research, a slow and steady connection with them has grown within me. Their postures are regal and standoffish. Their faces are grumpy and bitter. They are awkward and slow and therefore easy to catch compared to their ranid cousins. Although many may consider them unexceptional, I am entranced by toads. The other graduate student, the amphibian sandman of sorts, values toads too. His motivation was to collect the toad and the valuable data contained within the animal to put into a collection.

As I’ve been reading the first half of Elizabeth Kolbert’s The Sixth Extinction, I have been considering the value and the ethical nature of collecting organisms for collections. Collections hold a lot of value. Each organism contains data that may be analyzed with proper training to answer questions about our world and how it works. They tell a story of what once was. The promise of collections is that we may uncover patterns that change through time or come with new eyes and knowledge of current understanding to look at the historical data preserved within these specimens. And from an experimental design perspective, the more replicates, the more jars, the more specimens, the better. But from a spiritual perspective, it is gut wrenching to see jars and jars of your favorite animal, eyes dulled by formalin and ethanol, sitting on a shelf in a lab.

 I had a similar feeling thinking about “the original penguin”, the great auk while reading this week. As Kolbert relates what the last moments of the auk’s species was like I am reminded of toads. The great auk seems to share traits with my dear toads, both are unfit to travel with expedience on land. The auks see the humans coming, try to make a run for it, but are readily overtaken by the humans, and conked on their heads, and taken away, their lone egg left to die without parental care. Those auks have ended up on display, one of which is forgotten in a basement as an outcome of bureaucracy. I wonder if this is the fate for many museum specimens. They are collected at times with passion and with promise. Potentially, the data these museum specimen hold will answer some important question, yet to be conceived. However, a wise advisor once told me not to collect data unless you had a specific plan for it. There is also a potential that these specimens go unused and sit in a dark cabinet until their skins flake and their labels fade. Organisms of all kinds are under threat in the Anthropocene. Might it be better to not add an addition stress onto these organisms with collections?