Why, Mr Anderson? Why Do You Persist?

In the words of (some) science journalists

Hi there! This is TITLE-ABS-KEY(“science journalism“), a newsletter about science journalism research. In the previous issue, I was very eager to read about things that work but still somehow ended up bumming myself out a bit.

This time, I chose a promise in the abstract that was more moderate than “best practices,” in the hopes that I can handle professional realism if I manage my expectations.

Today’s paper: Anderson, J., & Dudo, A. (2023). A View From the Trenches: Interviews With Journalists About Reporting Science News. Science Communication, 45(1), 39–64. DOI: 10.1177/10755470221149156.

Why: Not being wild on war metaphors, I still decided to read about on-the-ground work.

Abstract: In the United States and many other large media markets, science journalism has experienced major structural shifts that have resulted in the profession largely being conducted by nonspecialists and freelancers who cope with an abundance of misinformation and a loss of public confidence. In this qualitative work, we present the results of in-depth interviews with science journalists to understand current struggles and motivations for producing science news. Despite structural challenges and occupational burnout, journalists are motivated to produce science news for their perceived social benefits. However, many of the ways they are left to cope with these issues are personal strategies (e.g., resilience) that are unsustainable and ignore systemic inequities.

Well, the realism does hit hard in the last two sentences of the abstract. It is, essentially, the long defeat from the last issue. I hope, however, that when the authors write about science journalism being done by nonspecialists as a problem on par with economic insecurity, misinfo and loss of public confidence, they don’t mean nonscientists. At the risk of deepening the war metaphors, should science journalists have a science background is a battle for the ages that I don’t really intend to win in this issue of the newsletter. Maybe I’d have rephrased that as a shrinking market causing niche beats to die out and journalists increasingly having to cover “science” rather than, I don’t know, “genetic research and privacy“ or even “particle physics.” That’s different from not having a science degree.

In her final published work, Sharon Dunwoody (2021), to whom this special issue is devoted, explored the prospects of science journalism in a contemporary communication ecosystem characterized by the hegemony of digital media. At least as far as traditional news media in the United States are concerned, this review described a grim prognosis for science journalism, beset as it is by forces of structural erosion such as the failure of the economic models of legacy media, the decline of trust in the institutions of science and journalism, and the rise of misinformation. Reading such a synthesis of research on this topic, one may legitimately wonder why any reasonable person would aspire to be a reporter who writes about science in any capacity.

I am actually going to repeat that last sentence as a pull quote because I find it so powerfully specific:

Well, one does wonder, for sure. I recently did a version of Alias with my science journalism students where we had to write our uncomfortable and inconvenient questions about the craft, put them into a hat (a CERN hard hat in this case), and then take turns answering a random one. I think the students were moderately worried about me and how inconvenient and uncomfortable my questions and answers were. Not quite convinced, frankly, it helped them become more determined to work in science journalism.

But anyway, yes, why would a reasonable person decide to become a science journalist? To find out, the authors conducted semistructured interviews with active science journalists across employment modes and comms channels. I should note that this happened in the spring of 2022; had someone tried to interview me then, that content would have been way too depressing even for this generally depressing newsletter.

The literature review is quite impressive in that the authors have managed to couch many of the eternal industry struggles in very polite and socially appropriate language, something I will definitely use in my talks. For example, look at this beauty:

In addition, this conflict stemmed from some commonly held perceptions of one occupation on the part of the other: scientists feeling that journalists produced reporting that was inaccurate or that insufficiently acknowledged scientific uncertainty, and journalists feeling that scientists lacked essential communication skills. Occupational conflicts such as these have occasionally resulted in scientists lobbying for more control over science stories, which journalists do not always relinquish, often because they feel that scientists may communicate in ways that are inaccessible to lay audiences.

Oh, if only I had a dollar for every time I heard a scientist say that journalists will inevitably twist the truth, introduce errors and ”lie about everything,” I would be retired at almost 35 and working on this newsletter full time.

The lit review goes on to point out that the economic reality of science journalism — and journalism in general — has changed dramatically from where we started. Most legacy media are slowly struggling into oblivion, digital media and social networks are being jerks, put plainly, about context, factchecking, misinformation, and algorithmic pressures, staff reporters are pushed out into the freelance market; the usual bouquet of trouble.

I’d add, perhaps, that it’s not just precarious work and nonspecialists covering science inadequately. Newsrooms used to be the place where people learned on the job, not just from other science journalists but also from other journalists full stop. It was a delightful environment for intellectual cross-pollination and developing a readers-first approach to science journalism (I count myself lucky to have started back then.)

The review does a stellar job of making me more and more depressed by accurately and calmly recounting all the trouble we’re in. And yes, on the nonspecialist issue, it is indeed mostly about science covered by general assignment reporters or freelancers who are likely not able to afford a niche beat.

Considering the state of science journalism and associated research discussed above, it is clear there is an urgent need to explore one especially key stakeholder within this context: journalists who are actively writing about science. As in, just who are you people and why are you even still here? Fly, you fools!

To get to 19 interviews, the authors reached out to 91 science journalists who used SciLine’s expert matching service — so mostly US journalists or those targeting that market. They were asked to describe their (1) relationships with their sources, (2) experiences in their occupation and work cultures, and (3) perspectives on timely science-society issues.

Here’s what the authors found:

• None of the journalists we interviewed were optimistic about the state of their occupation, and most showed deep concern about at least one element of science news. Wow, way to bum your reader out right from the start of the results section. But then again, I’m not here for optimism, I’m here for realism;

• Freelance work is unsustainable not just because of poor rates but because one has to factor in the auxiliary labor of reputation management;

• At least one journalist pointed out that scientific and journalistic institutions didn’t necessarily lose the trust of the public — rather, it was taken from them (e.g. by political disinformation brokers), and it’s not clear if it’s even in their power to win that trust back;

• The misinfo/disinfo conversation was largely focused on the producers having the reach that they do thanks to the less rigorous new media environment. This idea is often framed, especially by outsiders, as journalists simply being pissy about losing their gatekeeping role; I don’t want to play into that, however (there’s a legitimate issue of a lack of diversity in journalism as an industry but it’s most likely not at all what those outsiders are “concerned” about);

• Beyond the aforementioned challenges (many of which we expected to see based on the extant literature), we detected another challenge that was shared across the majority of our interviewees: the intense, emotional burden routinely associated with doing journalism. Yep, let’s just say this tracks;

• Occupational burnout is caused by communicating with outwardly hostile audiences, disillusionment from pretty much nothing happening in the climate change space and many other environmental issues, and the demoralizing outcomes of the COVID-19 pandemic.

You can always tell when a stock illustrator knows what they are talking about.

At this point, I’m on page 13 of the paper and about ready to declare this the most demoralizing issue of this newsletter. So it’s a good thing we’re on to motivations and why, WHYYYYY these people are still writing about science. Those include:

• Doing your best to report the truth accurately and seeing your colleagues do the same;

• Speaking truth to power and holding institutions accountable;

• Elevating the voices of the underrepresented and historically disadvantaged;

• Focusing on humans or on solutions.

Overall, a clear throughline connects the motivations behind these journalists’ craft: they are driven by prosocial ideals. These may range from working to bolster public knowledge of science to combat misinformation to holding scientific institutions accountable to working to make science more equitable, but each is rooted in their commitment to a better society. Our participants perceive widespread and urgent social problems related to scientific issues, and they are dedicated to producing science journalism that helps ameliorate these problems.

I’d note that one of those things is not quite like the others; prosocial ideals are great and all, but nothing lifts my spirit as much as just seeing my colleagues work and talking to them and helping each other. There is an Eastern Slavic saying that is often translated into No man is an island but the literal meaning is somewhat closer to this case, even though it’s also a war metaphor. No one can really fight their battle alone.

Indeed, journalists often noted the benefits of working in cooperative news environments with colleagues that shared their values and experiences, and with whom they could dependably commiserate during fraught professional moments. The freelance journalists we spoke with also emphasized the importance of having professional connections and support, but they also have to work harder to overcome isolation and find these types of supportive networks.

As for the other professional skills, traits and tactics, the authors identified credentials (duh), subject matter expertise and experience within academia, data literacy, emotional management, and resilience.

On that resilience note, I just want to quote what I think is the upshot of this study:

<…> more than anything else, journalists named personal resilience as being the tactic through which to manage their increasingly stressful working conditions. Several interviewees spoke of resilience in almost heroic terms, as an intrinsic trait that, if sufficiently embodied, could be used to overcome the incessant challenges of doing modern day science journalism. We find this notion troubling. It calls to mind the construct of grit, which emphasizes the combination of passion and persistence as being central to successfully achieving long-term outcomes, such as educational attainment. Our data suggest that we may be witnessing a phenomenon of grit among science journalists wherein those who are successful are those who are the most resilient (i.e., gritty) and best able to persevere through structural and emotional challenges in service to long-term prosocial goals in spite of their own well-being. The same main critiques of the grit construct apply in this context; grit itself is resistant to intervention, and the attention given to grit as an explanatory mechanism for success can detract from calls to address structural hurdles and inequities. As such, it seems foolhardy—if not unethical—to entrust the future of science journalism to only those individuals whose passion for reporting science is coupled with a preternatural ability to suffer.

<…>

There are likely no easy solutions to making up for this fraught structural situation that appears to be the root cause of science journalists’ palpable burnout, but our data highlights the need for structural changes in science journalism, lest we ask journalists to pay steep emotional tolls for merely doing their job.

I think this is the first paper that I’ve read, for this newsletter at least, where the authors stayed firmly in the academic lane and yet managed to come off as unmistakably kind towards their subjects. This meerkat, for one, is grateful.

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That’s it! If you enjoyed this issue, let me know. If you also have opinions or would like to suggest a paper for me to read in one of the next issues, you can leave a comment or just respond to the email.

Cheers! 👩‍🔬